


You've Won Me Over, In No Time At All

by one_golden_sun



Series: Poly Gay Trio Modern AU [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dating, Emotions, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Rimming, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_golden_sun/pseuds/one_golden_sun
Summary: John meets Alex.John falls for Alex.John meets Alex's boyfriend, Laf.John is confused.Or, The One Where John, Alex and Lafayette All Get Together.





	1. WEDNESDAY

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crimsonash330](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimsonash330/gifts).



> This fic would not have happened with the following people:
> 
> @zipperkitten, who betaed and served as an awesome Kink Consultant
> 
> @liese-l, who betaed, cheered me on, bounced ideas and was just an awesome help
> 
> @minky-for-short, who betaed, came up with some amazing plot points, and continued to support me and bribe me with art
> 
> @paperthinrevolutionary who edited and helped turn this mess into something palatable
> 
> This piece is for my wifey, @crimsonash330 who has loved me every step of the way with this thing

**WEDNESDAY**

New offices always made John Laurens nervous, and the fact that this one appeared deserted at three o’clock on a Wednesday was not comforting in the slightest. The office of _City Blues_ was modern but sparse. A cluster of offices framed in glass was a nice change from the shabby cubicles that populated the offices that John usually worked for. John wandered back through the halls. 

“Hello?” he called out. “Anyone here?”

There was a light on in one of the offices at the end of the hall, so John tried there.

“Excuse me?” he said, knocking his fist on the open door.

A man sat behind a giant Apple monitor. A hurricane of papers and issues of _City Blues_ were scattered on his desk, the empty chair next to his desk, even on the floor. He apparently hadn’t heard John, as evidenced by his headphones and the lightening speed of his fingers on the keyboard.

“Excuse me?” John repeated, louder this time. The man peered around his monitor, glanced quickly at John and slid his headphones to around his neck.

“Sorry. Model open calls are down on the 5th floor,” he said quickly, moved to put his headphones back on and return his attention to the screen.

“Model open... wait what?”

The man did a double take. Gave John the once over, in a way that made him suddenly nervous. “Oh, I assumed.” The guy blushed and coughed. He was moving at such a frenetic pace it was hard for John to get a good look at him. His eyes were on the screen and his fingers still flying on the keyboard, but he directed the next question at John. “If you’re not here for the open call, what can I help you with?”

“I have a three fifteen meeting with Angelica Schyluer?” 

“Shit!” the guy said quickly and jumped up, but was still looking at his screen, clicking frantically with his mouse. “Oh fuck, are you the... graphic artist?” He actually drew to his full height and looked John face on. “I’m so sorry. Damn it. Ang is out on maternity leave, damn baby came early. We’re splitting her duties right now but I forgot to sync my Google calendar. Shit.” 

John sputtered, unsure what to say. This man was moving at a pace unknowable to him, practically giving him whiplash. He was still stuck on being mistaken for a model, but his hand was being shaken and he was being steered out of the office.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton, Features Editor. Here, let’s go to the conference room, more comfortable, more room for you to spread yourself out.”

“Excuse me?” John said quickly, catching a hint of innuendo in the man’s voice.

“Your work, I meant spread your work out. Shit. Sorry.”

“Ok, here we are.” Alexander Hamilton flopped unceremoniously into one of the empty rolling chairs. Looked expectantly at John. John stared, unsure what to do. Usually editors drove initial meetings, and it could go any direction. 

“So um, are you gonna show me some of your art? Or?”

John sighed and set his portfolio flat on the table. “Don’t you want to know my name? Do you need my resume?”

Alexander shook his head as if dazed. “Of course. Your name.”

“I’m John Laurens,” he said carefully. Slid his resume out of his portfolio and across the table to Alexander. He left it laying in front of him, his eyes almost blurring he was reading it so fast. John cleared his throat and Alexander looked back up at him and smiled.

His smile was disarming. Made him look ten years younger. John took a moment to really take him in, look at his face properly. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, Latino. Olive skin and medium brown eyes. His black hair was piled on his head in a haphazard bun. He wore a Columbia University sweatshirt. Before when he had been moving a million miles a minute he was passably cute. But when he smiled, his eyes lit up and his whole face relaxed, he went from cute to downright adorable. John felt his stomach twist. He cleared his throat and started pulling examples of his work out of his portfolio and laying them out on the table.

John talked through a few of his notable pieces. Infographs for nonprofits. Logos for startups. Illustrations for websites and publications. He realized he was sort of droning on, and Alexander was hardly listening. Wasn’t even looking at the art. Those brown eyes fixed on him instead.

“I have to tell you,” Alex said, leaning in and sounding conspiratorial. “I don’t know shit about art. I mean your stuff looks great! Is there, like a particular reason you want to work with _City Blues_ in particular?”

After a calming inhale, John launched into the answer he had practiced. “Your publication’s vision aligns with my own political leanings, and I think my artistic style would lend itself well to y’all’s storytelling. For example, that piece a few months ago on the school to prison pipeline, I actually…” John shuffled through the stack of glossy printouts. “I thought the art didn’t really match the tone? So I put together some ideas…” 

Alex studied the images. John had worked with several statistics from the article, used very bold and cool colors to emphasize the damage and the severity of the article’s findings. 

“Whoa,” Alex said softly. “These are great.”

“Thank you,” said John, suddenly shy. Tingled slightly when Alex’s fingers brushed his own as he returned the pictures.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re hired for the project.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Your stuff is great, I think it’s exactly what we’re looking for the upcoming issue, and I think you’ll fit in well... here. ”

“Oh, ok great! Is there anything you can tell me about the project specifically, or?”

Alex burst out laughing. “Not a damn thing. It’s not in my department. But I will put you in touch with Jones, she handles all the stuff for the Op Eds. Which is where we need the illustrations. I think.” He yawned and smiled again. “I do know the article are contrasting viewpoints on the city’s proposed reforms regarding the homeless. If you do something like this--” he gestured at the illustrations John had just shown him “--with this kind of tone? Eye catching but like supporting the actual information. You’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

“Wow. Great! What are the next steps?”

“Jones will email you. Most of your stuff can be done remotely, I’m sure she’ll need you to come in for a few meetings, talk to the writers. If you don’t hear from her by Monday, you can call me directly.” Alex patted his pockets, as if looking for something. “Shit. Here, lemme. I’ll grab you my card.” He darted out of the room. 

Still slightly dazed, John spent time packing his pieces back up. He was shrugging his jacket on when Alex returned brandishing a business card, which John carefully slid into his folio. 

“So, um, thank you, it was really nice meeting you,” John said hurriedly. The way Alex was looking at him was making him anxious, and he got the job, he didn’t want any of his body language or a too loaded look to make the guy uncomfortable and cost him the gig. 

Smirking, Alex watched him., offered his hand to shake in parting, which John reciprocated nervously. “You have a good night, John Laurens,” he said silkily. 

“You too.” John practically bolted out the door. 

***

The call came in about an hour after John made it back to his loft in Chelsea. 

“Hello?” John said uncertainly, not recognizing the number with the NYC area code. 

“Is this John Laurens?”

“It is.”

“Oh great, it’s Alex. Alex Hamilton, from City Blues? We just met?”

“Right. Hello. How did you... get my number?”

“I’m a reporter. Finding information is my job.” 

John choked slightly. “What?” 

“I’m totally kidding. It’s on your resume. I do have a question I forgot to ask.”

His heart was racing now. He was gonna lose this job, he just knew it. Fuck. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, per say. He didn’t need the money. But he really liked the magazine, wanted to do more serious work. Breaking into the business was daunting, but having his work in such a well read magazine could be game changing for a freelancer. 

With this thought in his mind, he responded nervously: “Of course.”

“Can I take you to dinner?”

John practically dropped the phone. “W-what?” 

“Sorry, I usually ask in person, but conflict of interest and all that. So, tomorrow night?”

Slightly dazed, John said, “Sure. Ok.”

“You know what, fuck it. Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight? Uh…”

“I have an editors meeting til 8, and usually everyone grabs food before hand but I didn’t eat this afternoon. I was too busy with a piece I was working on and then I had to interview this cute graphic artist.”

“Sure, I could do tonight,” John said slowly, thanking whatever higher power that his blush couldn’t be heard over the line. Who was this guy? 

“Great! There’s this awesome ramen place right down the street, I’ll text you the address. See you there at 8:30?”

“Ok.”

“Alright then.” Alex’s voice suddenly dropped an octave, to something sultry. “I look forward to it, John Laurens.” And ended the call before John could respond.

***

It was 8:25, and John caught sight of himself in the reflection of the ramen shop, hoping, well... Hoping a lot of things. Hoping he had the right address. Hoping that he wouldn’t make an idiot of himself. Hoping that he looked ok. He had worn his hair down, and changed into a nice button down and jeans. Figured his appearance was passable. 

Even considering how he got here in the first place was baffling. John normally wasn’t the type of guy to accept a date from someone he just met. If he was being honest, he wasn’t the type of guy who got asked out like that. Sure, he was no stranger to one night stands. But taking home some man after drinking and grinding was completely different than sitting across from someone handsome and interesting and being forced to talk. Mostly likely about himself. First dates were things John usually had days to agonize and worry about. However, there was something extremely appealing about the tight timeline, about getting swept into something so sudden. It gave him less time to doubt or worry. 

Live while you’re young, he figured. 

At 8:35, John began to worry that perhaps he had the wrong place.

At 8:40, he was more worried he was the butt of some cruel joke. 

At 8:41 he was ready to give up and go home, but then heard someone calling his name.

“John! Hey, sorry, our meeting ran over. I should have texted but.” Alex shrugged kind of helplessly. He was still in just his hoodie and jeans. More chunks of his hair had fallen out of his bun.

“It’s ok,” John said slowly. “I started to think I had the wrong place.”

“No, my fault. I’ll make it up to you.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “First round of sake on me.”

John rolled his head back and forth to loosen the tension in his shoulders and followed Alex into the restaurant. 

It appeared Alex was a regular. He greeted their waiter by name, didn’t even look at the menu, then shooed the guy away when it was apparent John needed more time to figure out what he wanted.

They sat in nervous silence while he poured over the menu. Stuff like ramen shops were still something John was getting used to. 

“Do you need help picking something out?” Alex asked. He sounded like he genuinely wanted to be helpful, not condescending or impatient. 

“Maybe,” John said carefully. “To be honest, the only ramen I’ve ever had came in those plastic packets and cost like 75 cents.”

“Then you’ve been missing out, John Laurens. So like, do you have any things you don’t eat? Are you a vegetarian?”

“Oh, no way. I love meat.”

“Do you now?” Alex asked, his voice suddenly flirty. John felt himself blushing furiously. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m good with. Yeah.”

“So like, the shoyu ramen is really good, pretty much everyone likes it. If you prefer something spicy, the curry ramen is awesome. And if like noodles aren’t your thing, they have tonkatsu which is this rice bowl thing, with a fried pork cutlet. It’s like the best comfort food.”

Even with his heart still racing from the flirtatious exchange from seconds ago, there was something so endearing about Alex. His willingness to break down the menu, and so kindly, was the opposite of how a lot of New Yorkers had acted around John. And it also wasn’t the fakey-nice brand of southern manners he grew up with, either. 

He decided on the shoyu ramen, and with their orders out of the way, Alex launched right into what felt like twenty questions. They were so quick and direct, it left John slightly dizzy.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six, my birthday’s not--”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, three younger--”

“What about pets?”

“None here, but back ho--”

‘Kids? You don’t have kids, do you?”

“No, defini--”

“You have an accent. Where are you from?”

“Charleston. South Carolina.” John took a breath and sipped his tea. The barrage of questions, followed by such a short space in which to answer was slightly exhausting. 

“Oh neat. The South. What’s that like?”

John snorted. “Hot. Religious. White. Closed minded.”

Alex fiddled with his chopsticks. “But you’re only like one of those things? Maybe two?”

“I’m definitely not religious,” John said firmly. “Nor White. Well, not fully, anyway. And I try to be... open minded.”

The look Alex gave him was pointed. “Open minded is good.” He took a sip of his sake. “So, I could ask you about where you went to school. But I know that from your resume. Undergrad at Vanderbilt and MFA at... SCAD?”

“Right,” John said, unnerved. 

“How long you been in New York?”

“I moved here last summer,” John said softly.

“You like it?”

“Does anyone every really like New York?” 

Alex laughed. “True.”

“So, are you going to tell me about yourself? Or I mean, at least give me your resume to look at?”

Alex laughed again, his face lighting up. “Of course, sure. Ok. Um. Born in St. Thomas. Moved here when I was a kid. I studied Journalism and Poli Sci at Columbia, got my masters from NYU. Been working for City Blues for a few years now.”

“Did you always want to be a journalist?”

“Um. Sort of? I kind of fell into it when I realized I wanted to be part of politics without the baggage and personal commitment of running for office. Getting to bitch about it from afar is more up my alley.”

“Yeah?”

“What about you and art?”

John’s hands twisted in his lap. “I always was interested in art. My dad pressured me into pre-Law at Vandy but after, when I turned 21, I was able to gain some financial independence and said screw him, went to SCAD.” John sipped at his sake, hoping it would calm his nerves. “My dad is… disappointed in me. Wanted his eldest son to make partner before 30, run for office, marry a nice girl, have a passel of babies and big stupid house. Like him.” 

“I take it that’s not really your style?

“Kinda hard to meet a nice girl when you’re gay.”

Alex snorted. “So I think I get what kind of person your dad is.”

“What about yours? What’s your dad like?”

“Dunno. Never met him.”

Thankfully their food came at that moment, two steaming bowls of broth and noodles. Alex glanced curiously at John’s bowl before digging into his own. 

“Mmmph,” Alex said, the sound he made sinful. “Christ, that’s good. John you have got to try this pork belly. Here.”

Before John could answer, Alex was poking a chunk of the meat into his mouth. He had to admit it was good, but he refrained from making any sex noises in response. The very thought made him blush.

The conversation continued, typical date stuff. John relaxed in increments, something about Alex setting him at ease. Even though he was a whirlwind of a man, his energy and passion were infectious, and one couldn’t help but feel the effects. Overall, he seemed pretty cheerful too, which John felt the ripple effects from. John knew he wasn’t the happiest person, so it was nice to be in the company of one. It was like being on a date with a talkative Labrador. 

The check came, which they grappled over, John eventually conceding. (“I asked you out,” Alex said in a final sort of voice. “Next time, you can pay.” And John’s heart skipped a beat at the promise of next time.)

As they made their way out of the restaurant, John was pleasantly surprised when Alex took his hand, walked in them in the direction of subway as if it were completely natural. 

At the head of the stairs, Alex suddenly whipped around and looked at him, mere inches from his face.

“Would it be totally cliche if I just, like, kiss you right here?” Alex said in a rush. “Because I really, really, really want to.”

John, for what was worth, was still somewhat anxious about kissing men in public. But in anonymous city, with people rushing by, there was the cloak of privacy. From the moment he met Alex, he felt like a puppy being dragged around on a leash. Alex had navigated and steered and arranged everything. So John decided instead of answering, to take the reins for just a moment.

No bending was needed as they were practically the same height. John just leaned forward and pressed his lips to Alex’s, open slightly and very soft. Before Alex could react, John took him by the hips and parted his mouth, let his tongue dart in what he hoped was a teasing way. Alex responded beautifully, threw his whole body into the kiss and buried one hand in John’s hair. The kiss went on, until John pulled far enough away to say softly, “Glad to see your mouth is good at things besides just talking.”

He actually felt Alexander shiver against him. “Fuck. My mouth is great at a lot of things, John Laurens. Just you wait.” Alex leaned back in for another kiss, this time rolling his hips against John. Their bodies connecting like electricity sparking across water. Alex’s hands slid from John’s hair to the collar of his shirt so he could pull him impossibly closer. Alex tasted like sake and the salty warmth of the ramen broth, his mouth so warm against the crisp buzz of the night. When he pulled away, he nuzzled into John’s neck, put his mouth to John’s ear. “My place is just a few stops away.”

This little declaration, the whoosh of Alex’s warm breath in his ear, the smell of his skin had John positively dizzy. The pleasant stirrings of an erection were building in his groin. Alex kissed like he spoke, breathlessly and without regard to consequence. John was most definitely interested if that same style carried over into more… intimate activities. 

“You want me?” John said softly, purposefully letting his accent surface. 

“You tell me,” Alex whispered, pressed himself to John so he could feel his growing interest, apparent in the firm bulge in the front of his jeans. 

John cursed under his breath, kissed the side of Alex’s head. 

“Before you say yes, there’s something you need to know.”

John stilled his hand where it was rubbing idle circles on the small of Alex’s back. Of fucking course this whole thing was too good to be true. Asked out by a smart, funny guy, with an actual job, who was cute and a great kisser to boot. He was probably going to confess he was closeted and married with kids or a convicted sex offender or in a cult something equally unsavory. 

“Uh, I. Um. I actually have a boyfriend.”

John’s hand dropped to his side and he made a move to step back, but Alex seized him by the front of his shirt.

“No, but it’s ok! We’re in an open relationship, I just, thought it would be sneaky not to tell you. Look, I’ll prove it.”

He whipped out his phone and opened his text messages, brandished the phone in John’s face. Skeptical, John looked at the screen.

 **Alex** : Hey, baby. I gotta hot date tonight, what time you working til?

 **Laf <3**: Closing shift. FML

 **Laf <3**: Who is this hot date?

 **Alex** : Artist I met thru work. We’re grabbing dinner at Kumomato after my mtg

 **Laf <3**: I see. Do you need privacy in the apartment tonight? 

**Alex** : I HOPE SO!!!!!!!!!!

John felt like he might faint.

“So is he gonna be there? Is he gonna wanna watch?”

“Only if you want him to!” Alex said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

John blanched.

“I’m totally kidding. He’s not home. We uh, we have an arrangement. We give the other privacy to be intimate with others.”

The shift in his body language must have been tense. “So it’s like a weird sex thing? You guys are in a relationship but just fuck whoever you want?”

“Sort of. But it’s not only that.” Alex looked at him pointedly. “I genuinely have enjoyed our company and would be interested in seeing you again.”

“But you’re taken.”

Alex sighed. “Not to get too in the weeds about it, but like, I’ve had relationships outside of Lafayette. I believe that the human heart is too vast to sustain itself on the love of just one.” 

Of course, there was something poetic in this explanation. 

“Ok, let me just get this straight. You have a boyfriend.”

“Right.”

“But you’re interested in dating me?”

“Very much.”

“While still with your boyfriend?

“Naturally.”

“But you wanna go home and fool around?”

“Most definitely.”

John felt his mouth turn twist in a small grimace. There was an honesty there that made him feel trusting. Going home with a not-at-all-single man, with the boyfriend’s blessing was a very un-John Laurens thing to do. But he couldn’t deny the magnetic pull Alex had on him, as sure as being swept away by a tidal wave. 

“Seriously, um, I’m all yours tonight... if you’re still game.” Alex looked at him with those eyes, big and puppyish. “We can even go to your place, if that would be more… comfortable for you.”

Throat working while John gulped some air. On one hand, this seemed like exactly the sort of thing one should run screaming from. The potential for drama and heartbreak was high, and John did his best to avoid both. On the other, Alex was so soft and warm against him, and the lingering scorch of his kiss like a delicious appetizer foreshadowing the decadent meal ahead. Plus he hadn’t gotten laid in like, three months. 

Screw it.

“Ok,” John said for the hundredth time that night. “I’m game.”

***  
John had every intention of asking Alex more about his romantic arrangement and getting his bearings, but that went out the window when Alex tucked himself up against his front and went to work sucking a hickey on John’s clavicle. 

The walk from the subway stop to John’s building was agonizing. John’s hard dick strained uncomfortably against his jeans. Alex followed him closely, their shared silence comfortable but loaded. 

If Alex thought anything of John’s building, which was a converted factory housing several very expensive lofts, he said nothing. John wished momentarily that he lived on a lower floor, but they made the most of the elevator ride by kissing deeply. The moment’s walk to John’s apartment would only be remembered by the ambient sounds--the ding of the elevator, the jingling of his keys, the thump of the door shutting behind them. 

“Whoa,” Alex said softly. “Shit, this place is nice.”

“Thanks,” John. He supposed his loft--an open, expansive multi-level modern space done in tasteful neutrals--was nice. He chose it for the neighborhood and the exposed brick, which reminded him of some of the historical houses back home. In some ways, he thought of his space as being very cold. Yet, the moment Alex walked through the door, it felt significantly warmer. 

“Fuck, what’s the rent on this place? You sure you need to work with us? Looks like you do pretty well for yourself.”

“C’mere, cutie,” John said, suddenly emboldened. Wrapped his arms around Alex, nuzzled his neck. Perhaps it was the familiarity of his own place. Alex just looked so right in this space, so warm and inviting, and John realized with a start that this was a man he could probably fall in love with. 

Fuck. 

“Big bed,” Alex noted, his voice playful.

“Wanna closer look?”

Alex smirked, then pulled John to it so they could fall together on the dark gray damask duvet.

They kissed for what felt like hours, fully dressed, their legs tangling. Eventually, Alex’s hand snuck its way between them, rubbed at John between his legs. He moaned at an embarrassing volume. “This ok, baby?” Alex breathed. 

“Yes. Oh--” John was cut off from saying more as Alex squeezed him. Then they were kissing again, John bucking ungracefully into Alex’s hand. 

“Wanna touch you for real,” Alex said. “Care to get rid of these clothes?”

“God, yes,” John responded. Went to sit up so he could unbutton his own shirt, but Alex batted his hands away. 

“Allow me. Wanna see for myself where else you got these freckles.” Alex smirked, his fingers deft as they undid each button. John waited patiently. 

Alex pushed his shirt off his shoulders, ran his hands reverently over John’s chest. “Shit. You’re ripped too. Of fucking course.” He pressed the small of John’s back, coaxing him into another kiss. “And these freckles. Fucking gorgeous.” There was a long, quiet pause of Alex just staring up at him, taking him in. 

“What?” John asked, suddenly bashful. “What is it?”

“Nothing. You’re just incredible.” He brushed his thumbs over John’s nipples, trailed his fingers down his sides, traced the definition in his abs. 

“My turn,” John said softly. Helped Alex squirm out of his shirt. Revealed creamy tan skin. A trim chest dusted with a sparse smattering of dark hair. Pinkish nipples. An invitingly soft tummy which John ran his hand over, kneaded the flesh there. The floor-to-ceiling window to the left of the bed let in the ambient light of the city, and Alex positively glowed under it. Before, John had thought of him as cute, sweet, adorable. But under the spell of light pollution and lust, he was beautiful. A dark, quiet beauty with an undercurrent of hidden power. 

Before John could say or do anything of note, Alex knocked him back against the pillows, rained kisses on his abs, went back to gripping him over his jeans. 

Alex lifted his head long enough to say “I have a fucking weakness for a man with a six pack,” before returning to his oral worship of John’s stomach. John was content to let him, watched him in fascination, twining his fingers through Alex’s hair. Since initially worrying that the looming shadow of Alex’s boyfriend would force them to rush, John was pleasantly surprised at the leisurely pace they were taking things. Like Alex could focus on whatever parts of him for any amount of time, and was getting extreme pleasure from it. 

After covering the expanse of his abs with little licks and kisses, his lips met the waistband of John’s underwear, peeking an inch or so above his jeans. He kissed the boundary where John’s skin met fabric, looking up at John with those huge brown eyes. 

“Can I suck you off?” Alex said into his skin. 

John exhaled, felt his dick twitch at the mere suggestion. 

“I don’t know,” John teased, raising an eyebrow. “I usually don’t do oral on the first date.”

Alex pouted. “If we schedule our second date now, will that count?”

John laughed. “Alright then.” 

With lightning speed, Alex was fumbling for his phone, pulling up his calendar, muttering to himself. “Dinner? Friday?”

John already knew he didn’t have plans. “Sure. But I get to pick the place.”

Alex grinned at him. “It’s a date.” He tapped his phone then tossed it to the side. “Can I suck your dick _now_?” 

John smiled back, tussled Alex’s hair. Relished how pretty he looked, his eyes hungry and his mouth so pink and wet. “Absolutely.”

The moan from Alex’s throat was wanton, decadent. In a flurry of movement, he was unzipping and shoving John’s pants and underwear down. John made a small noise as his cock sprung free, which Alex eyed with lust. 

“Look at this,” he said all hushed. “Look at your pretty dick. God. Perfect.” 

John didn’t have a second to even feel shy because Alex was swirling his tongue around the tip of his dick, in a rather meticulous fashion. It felt incredible, even more so when he closed his lips around the head and sucked obscenely, his tongue still exploring. He popped off long enough to say “You taste sweeter than candy,” before diving back down, this time taking John all the way to the back of his throat. John arched, let out a strangled groan. Without meaning to, he bucked up and tore at Alex’s hair. He didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, it seemed to encourage him.

Clearly, Alex’s mouth was talented in many ways. He deep throated with ease, sucked with strength. His hand found John’s balls and handled them almost delicately, tugged them in such a way the John’s orgasm halted several times. Wanted to draw it out. 

Another pause. “Talk to me?” Alex whispered. 

A heartbeat. Dirty talk was not something John had ever… really… done, but he guessed he was willing to give it a shot. 

“Feels so good,” he mumbled. Alex’s face lit up, and he took John back into his mouth. John gently scratched at Alex’s scalp, making him hum with pleasure. “You look so pretty right now, sucking my cock.”

Alex peered up at him through his lashes, looking for all the world like some kind of wet dream come true. He pulled off again, rubbed his cheek against the inside of John’s thigh, his hand idly stroking John’s dick, his facial hair raspy on John’s skin. 

John reached down so he could cup Alex’s cheek, run his thumb over his bottom lip. Without even skipping a beat, Alex took his thumb into his mouth and sucked. John moaned again. 

“You got a condom?” Alex said, kissed the back of John’s hand. “Wanna fuck me, pretty boy?”

If John’s heart was pounding before, now it was millimeters away from exploding right out of his chest. If he thought Alex was going to be a one night stand, he would have been reaching into his nightstand without a moment’s hesitation. But, there was something different here, and call him old fashioned, but John thought it would be best to hold out on… some acts. 

Alex must have sensed his sudden discomfort, because he eased up. “I’m also ok with this, baby. I’m not expecting anything. Let me know what you’re thinking.”

“I… I’m not ready for that. Not yet, anyway. Not tonight.”

Alex grinned, kissed the tip of his dick. “No worries, sweetheart. This is more than perfect. Besides, wanna know what your cum tastes like anyway.”

Between that little declaration and the sudden onslaught of Alex’s mouth back on his dick, and John’s eyes rolled back. Any semblance of coherent dirty talk was forgotten as his vocabulary was reduced to curse words and Alex’s name. 

“Fuck, Alex, I’m about to come,” he finally said in a choked voice, and Alex just sucked harder. John’s orgasm slammed through his body, and Alex was pulling on his cock, milking out every drop. John lay gasping and sweating. Alex sat up, swallowed visibly. Bent back down to lick away the final drop that had formed at John’s slit.

“Goddamn it, you taste incredible,” he said, his voice sultry.

“Muh,” said John.

“Aww,” Alex goaded. “Did I wear you out?” He shimmied up John’s body, snuggled against him. At some point, he had kicked off his pants, and John could feel his dick, hard and waiting, pressing into his hip.

“Gimme a second,” John finally said. “Good lord.”

“You look so hot when you come,” said Alex, his hand playing absently with John’s cock, now soft and sort of sticky. 

“Thanks?” John said, all confused sounding, and they both laughed. Their shared laugh was close enough for them to start kissing, and then Alex was rutting on John’s leg, and John was reaching for him. John could taste himself on Alex’s tongue, and the mere thought of that had his dick taking notice, but he wanted to focus on getting Alex off. 

“How’s that?” John stroked Alex, letting him fuck into his hand and matching his strokes. Alex pushed himself to hover above John.

“Fucking amazing.”

“What can I--should I?” John stilled his hand.

“This,” Alex said quickly. “Your fucking hand feels so good. Can I come on you? On your abs? That ok with you?”

Oddly, though it had never been requested of him by a partner before, John thought it sounded kind of sexy. “Yeah. Come all over me, Alex.” 

That opened the floodgates. A veritable flood of filth poured from Alex while John stroked him off, his hips stuttering.

“Yeah? Want me to shoot my load all over you? Been thinking about this since you walked into my office, pretty boy. Thinking about you naked, think about you fucking covered in my jizz. Wearing that tight little shirt, couldn’t wait to peel it off, take it all off. Better than I could have even imagined. Can’t wait til you’re ready to fuck me, can’t wait to have your perfect fat cock in my ass.”

He paused long enough to kiss John again, deeply, before starting back in, his hips moving more frantically. “Gonna ride your dick, gonna ride you like a fucking pony.”

John whimpered. 

“Like that image? Like the thought of me bouncing on your nice big dick?” And then Alex was groaning, stilling his body. John felt the hot spurt of his cum streaking his skin, and a good bit of it too. Alex collapsed next to John, suddenly quiet. He cuddled under his arm, his demeanor flipping from foul-mouthed sex pot to sleepy and sweet almost instantly.

They lay together, sweaty and panting. “Anyone ever tell you that you got a filthy mouth?” John said conversationally. Alex laughed. 

“I always assumed it was part of my charm.”

“Oh, it definitely is. Here, let me... I’ll be right back, gotta clean this up.” He motioned vaguely at the mess on his stomach. Alex nodded, invited himself to shimmy under the covers of John’s bed.

When John returned from the bathroom, now in some boxers and his hair tied up, he couldn’t help but feel his heart stutter at the sight of Alex snoozing in his bed. He looked like he belonged, curled up under the comforter, his hair spilled over the pillow. 

“Hey,” John said quietly, sliding into the bed next to him. Alex stirred. 

“Mmph?” 

“You staying the night? You can, just… you are falling asleep.”

“No, I can’t stay the night. Just a little bit.” And Alex tucked himself against John, made cute little noises. 

John allowed himself just a few moments of quiet denial, let himself hold Alex and run his hands through his hair and pretend that something was happening. The chorus of “you just met you just met you just met” played an endless loop in his brain, followed by the nasty punctuation of “he’s taken,” which stung even sharper.

Then, in a sleepy voice, Alex asked him if he had a book he could read over and over again, and which one was it if he did, and then they were talking, an hours’ long ebb and flow of conversation that flitted from topic to topic like dragonflies skimming the surface of a pond. 

Just when John was sure Alex was going to fall asleep in his arms, his phone was vibrating loudly. With a yawn, but not much urgency, Alex dragged himself from the bed so he could retrieve his phone from the pocket of his long discarded jeans. He looked even better standing, silhouetted by the light and shadows pouring through the window.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hushed into the phone. “Yeah. Mmhmm. I’ll drop a pin, ok? From midtown? Like maybe 20 minutes. Ok. I’ll see you soon.”

He stretched and turned. Smiled down at John almost sadly. 

“Lafayette’s on his way.”

“Your boyfriend?” 

“The very one.”

“He picking you up?”

“He’ll meet me a few blocks away. He doesn't like me riding the subway by myself this late at night and he knows I’m too stingy to spring for a cab. He can be a little over protective.”

Unconsciously John felt himself gripping his sheets nervously in his hands. He was getting a very limited peek into Alex’s relationship dynamic, and what he was seeing was slightly daunting. 

Alex caught this as he was pulling on his clothes. “Don’t look so grumpy. You’ll see me Friday.” He came over to kiss John. John knew acting even the slightest bit possessive was a huge mistake, especially after hardly knowing Alex, so he resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his waist and cling. Alex kind of chuckled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just... Lafayette would really like you.”

“Think so?”

“Yeah. I do. He’s got a thing for affectionate pretty boys, especially if they’re kinda shy.” Alex said.

“You think I’m shy?” John asked, surprised.

“I think, John Laurens, that you are a lot of things. And I can’t wait to find out about all of them.” Like he planned it, like they were living some bizarro romantic comedy, his phone buzzed. “My escort is here, it appears.” 

John was kind of... not pouting, but quietly resigned, still in the bed. Alex came over and kissed him once on the forehead, once on the mouth. “See you Friday?”

“Can’t wait,” said John. 

Alex saw himself out.

Knowing he’d regret it, John still darted to his window. 

It only took a minute or so for Alex to appear on the sidewalk, emerging from John’s building. A man waited for him on the corner. They were far enough away that John couldn’t really see the boyfriend, just a basic impression of him. Tall. Black. A lot of hair. Their meeting wasn’t particularly impassioned, just them looping arms and heading towards the subway. John felt an irrational but poignant stab of jealousy before flopping back onto his bed, face down in the pillow. He wasn’t sure if he wished for a better look or no look at all. Either way, he tortured himself with a fantasy of rescuing Alex from a tower where he was held prisoner by a dark man as he drifted off to sleep.


	2. THURSDAY

**THURSDAY**

John didn’t have to wait until Friday to see Alex again. Maddy Jones from _City Blues_ called him the next morning, asked him to come by the office so they could draft a plan for the illustrations and incorporate them into the writer’s outline. The meeting took a good two hours, and when he emerged from Jones’s office, his head buzzing with ideas, Alex cornered him by the elevator. 

“I’m running across the street for coffee. Wanna join?” he asked without fanfare.

John smiled. “Sure!”

In the privacy of the elevator, Alex slammed himself into John, arms went around his neck, mouths crashing together. The kiss was rushed, dizzy, desperate, eager. The elevator ride lasted less than minute, but for John time was besides the point. Alex was a supernova, burning hot and eager, his lips and hands and tongue making John weak and helpless. The outside world was a footnote, and everything that mattered was Alex continuing to kiss him, to touch him.

They broke apart as they reached the lobby, Alex pulling away reluctantly. 

“Shame we’re not on a higher floor,” Alex said conversationally as they stepped out into the city, busy and alive. “If the elevator ride was just a little longer, I coulda given you a blow job.”

“We’re at work!” John hissed. 

Alex shrugged, ushered John into the Starbucks across the street. “Hasn’t stopped me before.”

John tried to shove the thought from his mind, of Alex on his knees in front of some other guy in the elevator or a deserted office. Was this why Alex was in an open relationship? Was one partner just not enough for him? Needed to remind himself he technically held no claim over Alex, having known him less than 24 hours, that casually dating and hooking up was not justification for a fit of jealousy. Plus. He had a boyfriend. That.

“Grande iced caramel macchiato, whole milk, and whatever he wants,” John told the barista, nodding his head at Alex who was making a face. 

“Americano with three shots of espresso,” Alex ordered. As they went to wait for their drinks, he was still making that face. 

“What?” John said defensively. 

“Nothing. Just. Your drink order.” He snorted.

“What’s wrong with a macchiato?” John asked. 

“Well like. Do you want coffee or dessert? Because that’s what you’re drinking. A dessert.”

John shrugged, smiled at Alex before closing his lips around the straw. “It’s fucking delicious is what it is.”

Alex shook his head, took the top off of his drink and tossed in the trash. Blew across the steaming surface. John thought they would snag a table, but Alex led him back out. 

“Wanna walk with me?” he asked. “I’m stuck on this piece and I need a quick lap around the block to clear my head.”

“Yeah sure.” John sipped his drink. Watched in shock as Alex just tossed his americano back in one gulp, crushed the cup and threw it away, grimacing. Thought to himself that explained a lot about Alex. “So, since you wanted to gripe about my order, you gonna tell me how your boyfriend takes his coffee?” 

Alex looked sidelong at him. “Seems a little early for you to be comparing yourself to him, don’t you think?”

“That something that happens often with guys you date?” John asked innocently. 

“Of course. Not so much with girls, they don’t feel as threatened.”

“I don’t feel threatened,” John said quickly.

“Good,” Alex said briskly. “Because there won’t be any hope for us if you do.” He stopped walking, whipped around to look at John, grinning. “And I like you. A lot. Already.”

“Me too,” John said softy. Alex’s smile widened and he leaned in. Took a sip of John’s drink, giving him a very suggestive look. John wished ardently they weren’t in broad daylight in the middle of a sidewalk. 

“God, that’s sweet,” Alex sniped, wincing. 

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Exactly how much did Alex tell his boyfriend about him? Did he tell him what they did last night? In generalizations or detail? His macchiato didn’t taste so great anymore. 

He was glad Alex was yapping about work, describing the difficulties with his current piece, and he hadn’t notice John’s sudden shift in mood.

“And that’s why I’m fucking stuck. I can’t figure out if it makes more sense to…” He trailed off, stopped walking, staring up at nothing, lost in thought. Then he whipped a pen from his back pocket, scribbled something on his own forearm, then tucked the pen behind his ear. “I’m sorry, John, I gotta go. I just... I just had a fucking brilliant idea. I gotta get back to work.” His words were fast, and he hugged John tightly, kissed his cheek, leaving John bewildered. “I’ll see you tomorrow? For dinner?”

“Yeah, I’ll--”

“Great!” Alex kissed him once more. “Text me the info! See you tomorrow!” And with a speed that John still couldn’t quite follow, he was jogging down the sidewalk back towards the office. 

John sighed. The weather was nice, so he decided to walk to his next destination. 

The overpriced gym that John belonged to was at least mostly empty in the middle of the work day. He preferred the locker room deserted so he could change into his speedo quickly. 

Swimming always had a calming effect on John. The repetitiveness and the quiet, and the ability to let his mind wander as he pulled himself across the pool.

It had only been a date and a half, and already he felt attached to Alex. Perhaps too much. A small, dark little voice in his head told him to get out while he still could, before he fell too hard. Because ultimately, what was the end goal here? Alex already had a boyfriend, so he was he even looking for? A fuck buddy? A side piece? A distraction? Probably not love. Assuming he already had that with the boyfriend. And John was a relationship kind of guy. He liked having a boyfriend, a partner. And Alex was definitely a dead end in that respect.

John paused at the ledge of the pool, panting. Had lost count of his set. Damn it. 

The rest of his swim, he filled his brain with cold unfeeling numbers. 50 yards became 100. Repeat the set. Switch up the stroke. Breathe in, blow the air out. Cut through the water so smoothly, so quietly, it’s like you were never there.

***

Clarity after his swim. John decided that dating Alex was fun, and he deserved some fun. He was a grown up, he could handle his own heart. So he spent the rest of the evening planning their date for Friday, researching restaurants, making a reservation. With plans set, he curled up on the couch with a beer and Netflix cued up. Shot Alex a text. 

**John Laurens** : Reservations for tomorrow night at 8

 **Alex Hamilton** : Where we going?

 **John Laurens** : It’s a surprise

 **John Laurens** : Can I pick you up? 

**Alex Hamilton** : Ooooh, romantic! Sure, what time? 

**John Laurens** : 7:30?

There was a while before Alex responded. It made John supremely anxious, seeing as the read receipt showed he had viewed the text. When ten minutes went by without a reply, John grabbed himself a second beer, put his phone on silent and face down on the coffee table, cued up an episode of Futurama. Vowed to not check his phone until the episode was over.

***

John woke up with a start. His blu-ray player had cycled to its screen saver mode. Blindly, he felt around for his phone to see the time. Instead he was greeted by a barrage of text messages. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Madison and 81st

 **Alex Hamilton** : Sorry for the delay

 **Alex Hamilton** : Got distracted

 **Alex Hamilton** : Work stuff... then other stuff

 **Alex Hamilton** : Not like that tho. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Ok, maybe like that. But like. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Pls don’t be jealous

 **Alex Hamilton** : God I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have told you that. 

**Alex Hamilton** : I really wanna see you tomorrow

 **Alex Hamilton** : We still on for 7:30?

 **Alex Hamilton** : I’m worried you havent responded. 

**Alex Hamilton** : You ok?

John rubbed his temples, feeling slightly overwhelmed. 

**John Laurens** : Sorry. Fell asleep watching Futurama. Just saw these. I’m fine, we’re still on for tomorrow,

 **Alex Hamilton** : Aww thats really cute. Omg

 **Alex Hamilton** : Love that show

 **Alex Hamilton** : Can’t wait to see you tomorrow <3 <3 <3 <3

 **John Laurens** : Same. Gonna go to bed. Goodnight

 **Alex Hamilton** : Sleep well, sweetheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for comments. You can also hit me up on tumblr: @likearootlesstree
> 
> Thank you for reading


	3. FRIDAY

**FRIDAY**

As John stood in front of Alex’s building, clutching a bouquet of sunflowers, he felt on edge. He had stood at the flower stand for at least a half hour, staring at the colorful rows of bouquets, wondering what Alex would like, feeling inadequate. He settled on his own favorite, sunflowers, also liking how their brightness reminded him of Alex’s cheerfulness. He wondered if Alex’s boyfriend was peering out their window, watching him, sizing him up. 

Alex was already smiling all glowy as he walked out of his high rise. His hair back in a loose braid, he wore a sapphire blue sweater over a collared shirt and dark gray jeans. He looked more relaxed and at ease than John had ever seen.

“Hey,” John said, almost shy suddenly. “These are for you.” Brandished the flowers like a sword.

Alex scooped them up, grinning so hard John worried his heart might break. “Oh wow, these are gorgeous. I love sunflowers!”

“I picked them because they remind me… of your ... smile.” John hoped the night was dark enough to hide his blush. Alex, of course, just smiled wider.

“You are too cute, John Laurens. Do we have time to run upstairs so I can get these in some water?”

“Yeah, we have time. Should I... come up? Stay here? Or…?”

“Lafayette’s not home, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s up to you.”

John followed Alex upstairs. Their building was extremely nice. Quiet, sleek, upscale. Alex’s apartment was big, open and pretty. John kept his eyes on Alex, so he could ignore the signs of the other man that clearly lived there: a long black peacoat hanging by the door, a rack of shoes containing pairs too big for Alex, a framed photo on the wall of a huge group of people holding up champagne glasses at what appeared to be a New Year’s Eve party. John didn’t look too closely, didn’t want to see the face of the man Alex had his arm around.

“These are so pretty, baby,” Alex said as he filled a vase up with water. John joined him in the kitchen. 

“Do you have a pair of shears? I can do the ends.”

Alex slid him the pair of kitchen scissors, watched in fascination as John snipped the ends of the stems at an angle. He set them in the vase, arranged them delicately, Alex’s eyes on him the whole time. Said nothing as he picked up the vase, set it in the middle of the kitchen table. 

“What?” John asked, feeling Alex’s stare.

Instead of words, Alex’s answer came in the press of their bodies. Ran his hands over John’s hips, caught his mouth in a gentle kiss. They kissed, slow, Alex’s warm tongue licking into his mouth, his moan vibrating through both of them. 

“Sure you wanna go to dinner?” Alex whispered, suggestive. John tilted his head back, felt Alex’s breath on his neck.

“I do,” he said finally. Let Alex’s boldness rub off on him. “My southern upbringing taught me you should treat a gentleman to a meal before doing the things I intend to do you later.” Purposefully slipped into his accent. 

The look in Alex’s eyes darkened. “Holy shit,” he said. He laughed. “Ok, that was a good line. Fuck.”

“I aim to please.”

“Ok, well, if we are going to go to this place, we need to leave right now because I’m like 30 seconds away from tearing your clothes off and going at you right here on the kitchen floor.”

“No patience,” John teased, trying to keep the upper hand. His heart was beating so fast it felt more like buzzing. “Food first. Me later.”

Alex smiled all sexy, his eyes sparkling. Practically dragged John from the apartment, for which John was glad, as he wasn’t sure his own resolve would hold much longer.

***

The surprise for dinner ended up falling sort of flat, especially at first.

“The Melting Pot?” Alex snorted, looking at the burgundy colored facade. 

“What?” John asked. 

“Nothing just. Isn’t it a little... mainstream?”

“‘Mainstream?’ What are you, 15?” John teased back. “It’s fun. Have you ever been?”

“Well, no. I try to avoid overpriced chain restaurants. We live in one of the culinary capitals in the world, and why go somewhere I can get in any suburb--” 

John cut Alex off with a well-timed kiss. “Give it a chance?” John pressed. Rubbed their noses together.

“Am I gonna get more kisses?” Alex asked, smirking. 

In lieu of a response, John kissed him again, took his hand and pulled him into the restaurant.

“Ok, first thing this place has going for it,” Alex started as they were seated, their hostess turning on their table burner. Their booth was in the shape of a U, forcing them to sit together instead of across from each other. Alex cuddled up under John’s arm, slung across his shoulder. “This is cozy as fuck. So last night, I told you what was good at Kumomato. You gonna help me order this time?”

“Sure. We have to make a few decisions together.”

“Like what?”

“Well, what cheese we want.”

“Oooh, cheese. What’s your favorite?”

“Classic Alpine,” John said, perhaps faster than necessary. Alex giggled. “It’s good, it’s very different. Reminds me the actual fondue in Zurich.”

“I’m just gonna side step that super privileged sentence. Alpine it is.”

“Who are you to gripe about privilege?” John kept his voice light. “You look like you do pretty well for yourself, if your apartment is any indication.”

Alex sipped his cocktail before answering. “I can’t afford that place. That’s all Lafayette.”

Oh, so the boyfriend was rich. Of course.

“What does he do?”

The hesitation in Alex’s voice was obvious. “So, I have no problem telling you more about him. But are you ok with talking about him?”

John sighed. “I mean, there’s really no use trying to pretend he’s not a big part of your life. And I want to find out everything about you.” John pecked a quick kiss to Alex’s jaw for emphasis.

“Laf is from France. He’s a Marquis. Don’t ask me to explain what that means because honestly we’ve been together for a long time and I still don’t quite understand it, but its some sort of French nobility. His parents died when he was very young, he was raised by his grandmother, and he inherited an obscene amount of money from her and his parents.”

John mentally added a dark hooded cloak and a Scrooge McDuck money room to his mental image of Alex’s boyfriend. 

“Where does he work?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Laf is more interested in trying different things than actually having a career. He works, but like it changes with the season. Right now he’s working at the front desk of some fancy gym near our building.” 

“That sounds... interesting.”

“It’s weird. When you don’t have to care about money, you kind of just do whatever.”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Shit... uh. Since college? Six years? Damn, is that right?” 

That answer surprised John. He felt his stomach knot. Six years was a long time. John knew he could regret the question he asked next but it seemed like an important one.

“Tell me one thing about him that you really love.”

The smile that spread across Alex’s face was genuine. Thoughtful. “Lafayette is never afraid to be himself. He’s so himself, it’s infectious. He’s the most unselfconscious person I know.”

The answer was not one John had expected at all. The warmth in Alex’s voice was unmistakable, and John realized he one day wanted someone he cared deeply about to speak of him in such a voice.

Their server appeared with their cheese, mixing the fondue right in front of them, setting platters of bread cubes, vegetables, and fruit on the table. 

“Ok, in Switzerland, the rule is if you drop your bread into the cheese, you have to kiss everyone else at the table.” John’s eyes glittered mischievously.

“Oops,” Alex said, sliding his fork so it knocked the cube of bread off of John’s fork.

“Hey!” John said. 

“Rules are rules,” Alex said simply, puckered his lips expectantly for a kiss. John sighed and shook his head, obliged Alex, then fished his bread out of the pot. 

“I won’t lie,” Alex said a few bites later. “This is really tasty.” He frowned when his own bread fell off his fork. “Damn.”

John pulled him in for that kiss, tucked a wisp of hair that had fallen out of Alex’s braid behind his ear and kissed him softly. 

They broke apart for more conversation. Alex told John more about his job. John told Alex about his siblings, how his sister Martha just got engaged and his little brother Henry Jr. was already being scouted by several universities interested in his athletic talent.

“What about you? Any sports in high school?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. Father insisted. I played lacrosse and was on the swim team. How about you?”

Alex actually laughed out loud. “Yeah, right. I’m so uncoordinated. Plus, playing sports is kind of an expensive hobby, and we really didn’t have the money growing up.” Alex trailed off. “Just as well. I spent most of my free time as a kid in the library.”

“Honestly, I would have preferred that,” John admitted. “Library and art class. Father didn’t think art was an… appropriate pastime for young man.” 

Hearing the note of unhappiness in John’s voice, Alex squeezed his hand. “Well, look where you are now. Your dad can’t argue with that. Art’s your career!”

John smiled wistfully. “I think he’s waiting for me to wake up and apply to law school any day.”

Instead of answering, Alex picked up the plate with the remaining bread cubes, tipped them into the pot of melted cheese. 

They kissed until their salad course arrived.

***

The rest of dinner passed pleasantly enough. The more John learned about Alex, the more he liked him. His ardent, almost rabid devotion to his pet political projects, his passion for cooking, his insatiable thirst for knowledge through reading (“I’m currently in the middle of a book about the history of the science of sex, a biography on Hillary Clinton, and a series of bell hooks’ essays”) and his love of video games. John revealed more of himself in increments: his love of marine life, especially sea turtles, his affection for all things Disney, his struggle with growing up gay and biracial in the suburbs of Charleston.

Not wanting to bring down the mood of the evening, he avoided the heavier topics that littered his life: the untimely death of his beloved mother, the relentless bullying at the hands of his father, Southern Baptism being shoved down his throat, the painful break up with his long term college boyfriend, Francis. 

No, it was much more pleasant to focus on the now, the almost, the yet to come. The grace of Alex’s fingers as he plucked a strawberry from the white plate, dipped it in the pot of melted dark chocolate. The mischievous look in his eyes and he curled closer to John to feed him the strawberry. How his gaze caressed where John’s lips parted around the fruit. His hand idly sweeping back and forth across John’s thigh under the table. 

The check could not come fast enough. 

Too impatient for the subway, John hailed a cab right outside of the restaurant. The ride to John’s apartment was both too long and not long enough. He had a lapful of Alex, kissing sloppily and grinding down, stirring up John’s interest like sparking kindling in a campfire. The previous night, while wonderful, had left John dumbfounded. Tonight, he planned to take his time. To kiss every square inch of Alex. To give him the kind of pleasure that would render him speechless. 

Walking through John’s front door, they shed their clothes left them in a sloppy trail that led to the bed. Alex stretched himself out on John’s carefully made bed, shot him the most beckoning look. The pretty tone of his skin a striking contrast against the dark color of the bedding. Every line and curve of his nude body an invitation. John left only in his underwear, crawled so their mouths could meet. Relished the way Alex’s arms went around his shoulders, clung to him while they kissed. His own fingers scrabbling in Alex’s hair, pulling the elastic off, working his hair free of the braid. 

“Pretty,” John said, all hushed, watching his own hand comb through the jet black strands. Kissing again, hands everywhere. John hovered over Alex, dipping his head to kiss at his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders. Alex leaned into each press of his lips, lifted his hips so he could rut against John, sunk his hands into John’s curls, clutching fistfuls of them. 

John was considering. Alex trapped beneath him, rising up against him, under him and around him. He was drunk on him, on his energy, his beauty, his softness. With each push of his hips, Alex’s bare cock, rock hard, rubbing against John, still trapped beneath cotton.

“Like you like this,” John whispered in his ear. “Like you laid underneath me.”

“Yeah?” Alex breathed. “God, I’m so hard for you. Damn it, John.” He cupped the back of John’s head. “Touch me. Fuck…”

“I am touching you,” John teased. Ran a hand down Alex’s side. 

The look Alex gave him, up at him through half lidded eyes. John swore he saw fucking sparks. “I can beg, if you want,” he purred, voice husky with lust. “I’ve been told I’m good at it.”

John shivered. Grabbed Alex by the hips. Flipped them so he could support Alex on his lap. Lightly dragged his fingers back and forth over his thighs, noting the way Alex’s breath hitched and how his dick jumped slightly at his touch. He avoided Alex’s cock, touched trails on his hips, his stomach, up his chest. Alex’s eyes drifted shut, as if hypnotized. With a languid delicacy, Alex took one of John’s hands in his own, brought it to his lips, kissed his knuckles. Then, curled his tongue around one finger, took it into his mouth. Sucked on the digit, hard, making John gasp. Flicked his tongue over the skin. Despite trying to stay in control, John bucked up against Alex and moaned. 

“Heh,” Alex laughed to himself. Shifted so he could stretch out on top of John, their cocks against each other, Alex’s free, bare and leaking while John’s was constricted in his boxer briefs, his own pre sticky and damp on the fabric. 

Alex slid their bodies together, rubbed himself against John. He sighed, took every move slow and deliberate. 

“Careful. Don’t want you to rip your panties,” Alex chided once when John’s body jerked beneath him. “You’re quite the sight. So sexy…” He pet John’s hair. “Love how soft your hair is. Like a kitten. And your skin… your freckles. Christ, your body is like a galaxy covered in constellations. Like a blizzard against a field of snow. Like a goddamn window in a rainstorm.” He paused his monologue so he could nip at John’s jaw. “Laid in bed the other night, couldn’t fucking sleep thinking about how gorgeous you are. Got up and wrote a poem about your freckles.”

John stilled. Thoughts suddenly intruded. Did Alex read that poem to his boyfriend? Did they talk about them? This? 

“Hey?” Alex checked in, noticing his sudden shift. “You ok?”

“Yeah…” John pushed back the thoughts, let his body guide him. Wrapped his arms around Alex. “Gonna let me read that poem?”

“Don’t need to,” Alex said softly. “Rather make you fucking feel it.” Snuck a hand between them, down the front of John’s underwear. Gripped his length. John whined. Alex’s hand was a little cold, but then he was moving again, rubbing himself against John while he jacked him off, slow and torturous. “Touching you is better than any verse I could write. The way you look beneath me stirs my soul deeper than even the most beautiful sentence.”

Under normal circumstances, John would have found Alex’s lines corny, even laughable. But for some reason, perhaps Alex’s tone or his sincerity or the give and take of his body above him just made him harder, made his heart soften. 

“Can’t stop thinking about you, you know? Known you barely three days and you’re already stuck in my head. Your smile, your eyes. You’re fucking addictive.”

No one, not ever, had spoken to John like this in the throes of passion. He pulled Alex down into a kiss, their tongues playing chase and their bodies rising and falling in a perfect rhythm. Alex’s hands were everywhere at once, and John tried to keep up, tried to touch him in a way that spoke the same level of attraction. He knew it would never work with words, so touch would have to do. 

“God, John, I’m desperate to taste of every inch of you.” Alex kissed his shoulder, swept his sweaty bangs out of his face. His other hand, drifting south, slid back to grip a palmful of John’s ass. “Wanna eat you out,” he said, like a confession. “Wanna lick you open, wanna make you come on my fingers.”

The offer out on the table like an unexpected gift. John tensed in Alex’s arms, but his body lit up with interest. Clenched on nothing. The deep desire for Alex to touch him there, to explore. The problem was…

“I’ve…uh. Never done anything like that before.”

Alex paused. Lifted his head so they could make eye contact.

“Never been eaten out?” Alex asked, sounding surprised.

“No. Or, uh. Fingered.”

Alex’s face twisted in disbelief. “Seriously?”

John nodded. “Honestly I’ve only ever topped.”

“Ok, but like, no one has ever even like... played with your ass?”

“No one ever offered, no.” 

Alex looked dazed. Then elated. “Oh, god, ok so call me crazy but this is like turning me on so bad right now. Oh, sweetheart, you have been missing out.”

At his words, and his slightly coddling tone, John felt scrutinized and suddenly very, very naked. 

“Are you interested in trying it?” Alex asked, his voice suddenly soothing. “I’m game for whatever you want, baby. Just tell me.”

The pause let John consider. There was no pretending that he hadn’t ever been curious. He, himself, had fingered and fucked enough assholes to know that there was great pleasure to be derived from such an act. And while cerebrally he rejected the idea of static roles within a sexual relationship, none of his partners had ever expressed desire to reciprocate such acts. John always assumed he might one day meet the right man willing to experiment, but until then he was willing to be the giver. Was Alex that right man? Was this that right moment?

“I am. Eventually. I just. I don’t think I’m ready. Yet.”

Nodding, Alex pulled back. “I can respect that. Just know like… when you are ready. Damn it I hope I’m part of it.” He smirked. “I just can’t believe… god who the fuck was able to resist your cute little ass? Fucking will power man.” 

There was a sudden shift in the mood, and John felt shy. Embarrassed. 

“Hey, it’s ok, baby. It’s ok. Don’t be like that. You’re gorgeous, you’re amazing. We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know.” John paused. “I have… tried to… experiment.”

Alex’s eyes were wide, and he failed to conceal his look of great interest. “Yeah?”

John shook his head. “Never worked.”

A silent minute, loaded with tension. Alex reached up and touched his face. 

“Tell me what you wanna do, sweetheart.”

The thing was, John didn’t know. He wanted everything all at once. He wanted to fuck Alex but also wait. He wanted his dick in Alex’s mouth, but also to kiss him and tell him how lovely he was. He wanted to Alex to gently take him apart, make good on his promises, but he also wanted to stay in control. What he really wanted was to avoid falling in love with this incredible man, but that thought felt more like a pipe dream with every passing second. 

“Stay up here,” John said. “Stay near me.”

Alex’s face softened. Eyes gentle. “Ok. What else, darling?” 

John nestled himself closer. “Touch me,” he whispered. 

“Here?” Alex asked, his hand skimming John’s length. His erection had flagged slightly when the conversation had turned, but perked up almost immediately under Alex’s skilled hand. 

“You can… you can go a little lower.”

Alex’s head fell to the pillow. His fingers brushed at John’s balls, the tops of his thighs. John planted his feet on the bed, let his knees fall open. Alex inhaled sharply. “More?” he breathed and John nodded. 

His fingers walked up and back on John’s perineum. John’s eyes drifted shut. He relaxed his body, focused on the small brushes against his skin, like tiny flutters. Alex’s free hand coming to grip his dick. No strokes, just holding the length gently in his hand. 

“How’s this?” Alex asked, one finger creeping lower. John nodded, let out a small whine. “Hey, I got you, just relax sweetie.” Alex continued to explore, circled John’s rim, the edges of his crack. Used his thumb to stroke his perineum. The feeling was exquisite. First was the thought that no one had ever touched John in these places, which both men found highly erotic. Second, the actual feeling of it, the gentleness, the charge there. It felt unlike anything else, like an itch John didn’t even know he had until it was scratched. Nerve endings he didn’t even know he had lighting up under Alex’s careful ministrations. His body clenched yet again, still around nothing, but the possibility of it maybe being something, sometime soon. A bead of precum leaked from him, his own incoherent thoughts doing it for him.

“Look at you,” Alex said reverentally. “I’m barely touching you. Tell me how it feels.”

“Amazing,” John answered, his voice thick. “You’re... you’re finding spots I didn’t know I had.”

Alex pressed two fingers right on the outside of John’s hole. John jolted. “This one of those spots?”

“Keep doing that,” John begged. “Right there.”

And with Alex’s finger tips just slightly teasing him, his hips rose into Alex’s other hand. He got the hint and returned to jerking him off, slowly, all while touching John’s ass. “Can’t wait til you’re ready for me to be inside you.” 

John whined. 

“You think this feels good? Just wait, my dear. You’re so goddamn sexy like this. Can’t wait to see you fall apart when I got two fingers inside you. This tight, little hole. I can just tell you’re gonna be so responsive, gonna fucking love feeling me from the inside. Wanna hear you beg for me, tell me to take my fingers out, give you the real thing.” 

Now, John was gasping. Bucking up into Alex’s hand. 

“You like that thought, baby boy? You like the idea of getting fucked by me?” 

With a high pitched cry, John came, and came hard. He could barely hear what Alex was saying, his ears were full of his own roaring heart. He’d never even… considered… with anyone else. But lord, the idea of Alex buried inside him, spitting filth and poetry into his ear. That was an appealing thought. 

Alex jerked him through his orgasm, pulled his hands back to lay them on John’s stomach, to quietly pet him while he basked in his afterglow. When he came to, he noticed two things. Alex’s neglected cock, practically purple from arousal. And the practical flood of his own cum, on Alex’s hands and his own abs and chest. 

“You good?” Alex asked. 

“Good fucking god.”

“Told ya. You’re missing out.”

In lieu of a witty response, John felt pulled, magnetically, to Alex. He wanted Alex’s hands in his hair, he wanted his dick in his mouth, he wanted to feel him come down his throat. John said nothing, just dove for Alex’s cock. Took him in half way, and proceeded to suck him off with a renewed vigor. 

“Goddamn it!” Alex yelped in surprise. Then he was pulling John’s hair, telling him how pretty he looked, how fucking gorgeous he was with his mouth full of cock. John moaned and nodded, wanted Alex to keep going, to keep saying these filthy things. “Christ, you’re good at this. Holy shit. You’re fucking perfect. Brains, beauty, body, and you can suck dick. Gooooood lord. I know that little ass of yours is tight, but your mouth is making a nice case for itself.”

John hummed, took Alex in deeper. Then Alex was coming, shooting his seed, hot and thick, on the back of John’s tongue. John pulled off so he could make eye contact with Alex, smile as he swallowed the load. Alex hissed in pleasure at the display. 

“You’re bad for me,” Alex said a few minutes later, John spooned up against his back. 

“How so?”

“Nothing. I can barely think straight.”

John laughed, nuzzled his face into Alex’s hair. Wished that Alex would stay. Wanted to ask him to. Was afraid of the answer he already knew.

When Alex’s phone buzzed an hour or so later, after the spent time between drifting into a light sleep and talking about nothing of consequence, John had to actually bite his tongue and stop himself from throwing his arms around Alex and begging him to stay.

They kissed goodnight, Alex tucking John into bed. This time, he didn’t go to the window to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like some comments, please. You can also come say hi to me on tumblr @likearootlesstree


	4. WEEKEND

**WEEKEND**

The rest of John’s weekend passed pleasantly enough. He didn’t get a chance to see Alex again, but they texted off and on both Saturday and Sunday. Through these texts he got little glimpses into Alex’s life. 

Grumbling about Saturday morning errands. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Is it like a requirement to be a grumpy buttface to get hired at the post office?

 **Alex Hamilton** : Fucking Trader Joes packed. With kids too. Kill me.

 **Alex Hamilton** : Laf can be so dumb sometimes. He’s trying to get me to buy socks from Bloomingdales. WTF. I just wanna go to Target. 

Afternoon spent doing chores around the apartment. 

**Alex Hamilton** : I’m so over vacuuming 

**Alex Hamilton** : Srlsy. Who invented this shit.

Saturday evening out with his friends.

 **Alex Hamilton** : This place is pretentious. Who needs a farm to table cocktail? Is there someone farming the vodka?

 **Alex Hamilton** : Shit. My friends Eliza and Herc are drunk again. Having a waaaay too tense argument.

Drunken texts late Saturday night.

 **Alex Hamilton** : Fuck... 

**Alex Hamilton** : Im fuckedup

 **Alex Hamilton** : This is baaad

 **Alex Hamilton** : Iprolly shouldnt say this but I reallylike you. Youre so sweet sexy funny. Omg. 

**Alex Hamilton** : I’m so horny rght now to

 **John Laurens** : Where’s your bf?

 **Alex Hamilton** : Hes here. But like.

 **Alex Hamilton** : Honestly. Iwould like kill to have both of youright now. Hooooly shit. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Im a bad person. Sorry forget i said that

 **Alex Hamilton** : Shit. 

**Alex Hamilton** : But john you are both sooooo good in bed it would be fcking amazing 

**Alex Hamilton** : Are you mad @ me?

 **John Laurens** : No honey. ^^

 **John Laurens** : You’re very drunk. LOL. 

**John Laurens** : Just want you stay safe. Get your bf to take you home, drink lots of water, sleep

 **Alexander Hamilton** : K. <3 <3 <3 

Of course, an apology text from Alex came the next morning. Did not want John to feel uncomfortable or weird about anything. John assured him all was well, that honestly he found the whole thing amusing. And of course, very flattering. Alex called him good in bed... wanted him and his boyfriend at the same time. The thought was both frightening and thrilling. 

He decided not to dwell too much on it.


	5. MONDAY

**MONDAY**

John set up camp on one of the spare desks in the open air part of the office. He rented his own studio space in a building in Soho, but this early in the project wanted the be close to the writers for check ins. Alex gave him a surprised little wave when he came in, smirked and went into his office. John’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

 **Alex Hamilton** : You’re so cute when you’re concentrating

 **Alex Hamilton** : Now I’ve got a boner in my office. Damn it, John. 

**John Laurens** : I’m just working! I didn’t do anything!

 **Alex Hamilton** : Yeah ok. Just sit out there, being gorgeous. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Can I take you to lunch?

 **John Laurens** : Sure. Just come find me when you’re going, ok?

Around 11 is when the proverbial shit hit the fan. 

A tall, elegant black woman in a sharp suit and heels clicked into the office. Her makeup was flawless, her hair falling in natural curls around her shoulders. But what made her appearance more jarring was the fact she had a sleeping newborn strapped across her front in a baby wrap. The people around the office greeted her warmly, but were cut off by the steely look on her face. She walked right up to John’s desk, seizing him up with her cool gaze.

“John Laurens?” She asked, her voice low but authoritative. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She peered at his work. “Looks good. Come with me.”

Supremely confused, John got up to follow her towards the hall of private offices.

“Hamilton,” she hissed. It was like she wanted to holler, but couldn’t due to the sleeping baby.

Alex jumped up from his seat, ran over to her.

“Angelica! Oh my god, what are you doing here? You look incredible, oh and you brought the baby. Oh wow, can I hold her?”

“My office. Both of you. Now.” 

Alex’s smile wilted under her tone. He shot a furtive look at John, and followed Angelica to her office, John in their wake.

“I’m gone barely two weeks, and somehow, you manage to hop in bed with one our new hires.” She spoke slowly, quietly, not taking her eyes off of Alex. He cowered under her eyes, refused to look at John. 

“Ma’am?” John said softly, wanting to respect her. “Let me say, that... we are dating, yes, But Alex has been nothing but professional in the office.”

She turned to him, looked closer like she was seeing him for the first time. “Yes. I can see it. Of course. You’re just his goddamn type.” She turned back to Alex. “Explain yourself.”

Alex launched into an explanation, speaking far faster than John could follow. He caught phrases like “lust at first sight” and “give love a chance” and “old school romantic” and “we’re keeping it private!” His voice started to raise in volume, but Angelica shot him another withering look.

“Keep your voice down,” she said slowly. “If you wake her up, I will actually murder you.” 

“How did you even find out?” Alex whined. 

“Laf called me, you idiot.” 

John’s heart zipped, his blood ice. Alex’s boyfriend ratted them out their boss?

“He did? Wait... what?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Alex. He just called to check on me and the baby, say hi. So imagine my surprise when he mentioned in passing that you had a new paramor. A graphic artist you met through work. And he spoke about the two of you as if you had met in passing. Did you forget to mention that you were the one who hired him?!”

Alex scratched the back of his neck nervously. “It may have... slipped my mind.”

“Unbelievable. Sometimes, Ham, I swear you are the absolute worst. And you,” she snapped, fixing John with her stare. “Did you sleep with him to get this job?”

John was taken aback. “God, no,” he said quickly. “He didn’t even ask me out until after I accepted the job.”

“Well. Maddy speaks highly of you. She loves your vision for the homelessness piece. And you are a temp, so I guess it’s not that big of a deal. Just. Keep it in your pants at work? Got it, loverboys?”

“Yes,” John and Alex both mumbled. 

“Good. We’re done here.” She turned to her computer. When John and Alex stayed seated, she shot them that supremely chilling look. “Get out. Now.”

***

Over slices of pizza at a shop a few blocks away, Alex apologized profusely. “John, I am so sorry. I should have been more clear with Laf, told him that things were kinda sensitive.”

John set his jaw, picked at his pizza. 

“He didn’t do it on purpose, he probably didn’t even know Angelica would be pissed.”

“Why didn’t you tell him that you hired me?”

Alex sighed. “Because even though it wasn’t, it sounded kind of skeevy? And I really actually like you, and I didn’t want it to seem like I was just picking you up?”

It was John’s turn to sigh. “I don’t like feeling like I’m your secret,” he said. Stared down at his hands. 

Alex reached across the table to take his hand in his own. “You’re not my secret, baby. Not at all.”

“I don’t feel like I’m fully in your life. And, that’s hard. And to hear that your boyfriend tattled on us to our boss really kinda stings.”

“It wasn’t like that sweetie. If you knew Lafayette, you’d know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He’s not vindictive, and he has no reason to be jealous of you. Christ, he wants to meet you!”

John was stunned momentarily. “He does?”

Nodded as he took a bite of his pizza. “Yeah. He won’t shut up about it. ‘Mon chou, when do I get to meet your new suitor? When will you bring him here? He sounds so sweet, I am eager to meet him in person!’” Alex rolled his eyes. “He’s interested in you.”

“Why?” John asked, incredulous. 

“Because you make me happy. Because you’re part of my life now too. Because I’ve told him all about how amazing and cute and sexy and smart and talented you are.”

“So why haven’t you told me this yet?”

Alex shrugged. “A few reasons. It’s still really early, and I didn’t want to freak you out. And I want you to myself for a bit?”

John made a confused face.

“Do you want to meet him?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” John shifted on his stool. “This whole thing is. I’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s hard to navigate?”

“Is it too much?” 

“I want to keep seeing you,” John said after a long pause. “I really like you. And I want to see where it goes.”

“And Lafayette?”

“Maybe. I need time to get used to everything?”

“Of course. Well, just know the ball is your court, John.”


	6. THURSDAY

**THURSDAY**

Weeks passed. John filled his days with his routine: healthy breakfast, work, healthy lunch, more work, gym, home. Often, but not as often as he would like, Alex was the welcome speed bump in his predictable days. If John worked out of the office that day, Alex would take him to coffee or they would meet for lunch. They might go out of dinner, and John even cooked for Alex one night at his place. (“You call this dinner?” Alex asked suspiciously, eyeing the salad and grilled chicken breast.) Their dinner dates would always conclude back at John’s for any number of intimate activities.

There was one memorable evening when Alex took a handful of John’s hair, pulled hard and directed him to his knees. Called him a number of degrading names while fucking his face. 

“John, darling? This ok?” Alex had asked, stilling his hips and peering down at him all big eyed. Allowed John to pop off so he could answer. 

“Yeah, honey. It’s great.” John had affirmed. Liked Alex taking control. Liked the grounding feeling of being held in place by his hair, just flirting with the edges of pain. 

“If it gets too much, just hum the birthday song, ok?” and John had nodded. “Can I call you a slut? That ok baby boy?”

And John had matched his gaze, said seductively, “Call me anything you like, Alex.”

John came harder than he had in recent memory, practically untouched. After, they showered together for the first time. 

As they held each other under the running water, Alex rubbed his back, spoke quietly into his ear. “You’re such a good boy, so sweet, so beautiful. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

John buried his face in Alex’s neck, getting a mouthful of water. Remembered how just minutes ago, with Alex yanking his hair and his mouth full of his cock, the almost Jekyll/Hyde stream of words pouring out of his mouth. How Alex went from “baby boy” to calling him a whore, a slut, filthy, dirty little boy, the perfect cockslut. “Wanna move you from your desk out in the office into mine,” he had hissed. “Keep you under my desk so you can warm my cock all day. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

If John thought too hard about it, shame, bright red, pulsed hot and hard under his skin. This whole thing was unprecedented. Perhaps it was his choice in partners, but no one, not ever, had treated him like that. John was used to being in control, taking the lead in bed. So for Alex to flip the script completely, to boss him around and, hell, demean him a little bit, was shockingly appealing. 

Only in the darkest corners of his mind would John ever admit he’d had an interest in… kinky stuff. Porn and erotic stories he had searched for out of curiosity, dipping his toe just a little in a world of bondage and dom/sub dynamics. The kind of sex that he feared shameful and shocking. And even in his own fantasies, things never played out in a clear way. He never even went so far as to imagine himself in such a role, but he had assumed, intellectually, he’d be cast as the more domineering one if the situation were to arise. So for Alex to essentially make that decision for them, to just slightly bring such a dynamic into their mix, was thrilling and fascinating and erotic.

“I liked it,” John said softly into Alex’s shoulder. “I liked it a lot.”

“Me too, sweetie. Here. Sometimes after something like that, it’s good to be taken care of. May I wash your hair?”

John nodded, grabbed his bottle of shampoo, poured a generous dollop into Alex’s cupped hands. 

“There, just relax,” Alex murmured, lathering the product, scrubbing his scalp. John let his eyes drift shut, concentrated on the water and Alex’s hands. Hummed with pleasure at the soothing feeling of having his hair washed for him. Of being taken care of. 

“Have you ever... done anything like that before?” John asked in a small voice after Alex had rinsed the suds out of his hair and was working conditioner into the sopping strands. 

Alex laughed, but not unkindly. “Let’s just say I have ample experience in such matters. And I’ve played many different... roles.”

John felt his cheeks flush. Did Alex treat Lafayette like that too? Did he order him around, call him mean names? And after, did he do this? Coddle him and care for him? He shivered, despite the water running warm. 

“Are you staying tonight?” John asked, noting how Alex had pulled a pair of cozy looking sweats out of his messenger bag. He looked so right, his hair turbaned in one of John’s towels, pulling on a pair of socks. He belonged there. 

“No, honey. I’m sorry.”

John flopped face down into his pillow. Tried to beat back his emotions. The swell of disappointment. The dull ache of longing. The sharp pain of abandonment. 

“Jack?” Alex asked. It got John’s attention because Alex had never called him that, the only people who ever did were his family, and it sounded so gorgeous in his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just. You _never_ stay. And... like. I want you to.”

“I know, baby. But it’s one of our rules.” John looked puzzled so Alex clarified. “Rules with Laf. We spend the night at home. No matter who we were with earlier.” He chewed on his lip, thinking. “If you don’t wanna be alone, you can come home with me. Sleep with me there.”

John squeezed his eyes shut. Imagined sharing a bed with Alex and his still faceless boyfriend. Would Alex sleep in the middle? Would it be a night of tug of war? Yeah, no thanks.

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

John nodded. Squirmed to get under the covers. Alex grabbed his phone, tapped off a text. Joined John in the bed. 

“How about this?” Alex suggested. “I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep? How’s that sound?” 

In lieu of an actual answer, John cuddled up against Alex. Nestled his face into his t-shirt, felt Alex’s arms go around him. 

Thought to himself if he could stay awake, Alex would never leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need comments and praise bc I am a thirsty bitch. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @likearootlesstree


	7. SUNDAY

**SUNDAY**

John found the brunch place with ease. He had unsurprisingly beat Alex there, despite the fact that Alex invited him. His perpetual lateness was something John had started to get used to. It wasn’t malicious, but just part of Alex. So John sipped his coffee, studied the menu. 

“Oh, great. Do you think we could get another place setting?” John looked up at Alex’s voice. 

And his heart stopped.

Standing beside Alex was one of the best looking men John had ever seen in real life. He was a full head taller than Alex, broad shouldered and impeccably dressed. Rich brown skin. His dark hair tied back in a small poof. Cheekbones and big brown eyes and the perfect amount of scruff and full lips and fuck, John was staring, knew his mouth was popped open in shock from both how gorgeous this man was and having been ambushed by him.

“John?” said the man. “John Laurens?” Hearing his name come out of that pretty mouth, his accent caressing each syllable. John had to tear his eyes away to look at Alex, who wore such an infuriating smug look on his face that John had to frown.

“Hi,” John said simply to the man. Felt his eyes pulled in a glare. Held out his hand to shake, was further shocked when the man accepted it, brought it to his lips instead and kissed the back of it instead.

“It is an honor and a pleasure to finally meet you,” he purred, holding John’s gaze. He almost looked away. It was like staring into the sun. “I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. To everyone I am simply known as Lafayette. I am Alexander Hamilton’s lover…”

“Goddamn it, Laf, you know I hate that word,” Alex griped beside him. 

“Is it not true, mon chou?” Lafayette said simply. Flashed John a bright smile that made John’s stomach turn to liquid. “It is something you and I have in common, non?”

Thankfully, the waiter showed up then with the extra chair and place setting, interrupting John’s sudden fight or flight instinct. They said nothing, just watched as the waiter set the table, then hurried off.

Perhaps sensing the tension that had suddenly erupted, Lafayette said “This place has such a lovely mimosa bar. I think I will go mix us some, yes?” and he pressed a quick kiss to Alex’s forehead and bustled off. 

“Are. You. Serious?!” John snapped as soon as Lafayette was out of earshot. “Perhaps a heads up would have been nice?”

Alex, still with that infuriating little smile. “I thought a surprise would more fun.”

“Fun for who? You?”

Instead of answering, Alex continued to smirk, took a sip from his water glass. 

“You could have at least warned me that he’s… he’s…”

Alex’s eyes sparkled. “What?”

“That he’s hot!” John whispered. 

“Oh yeah, and given you more of a complex? That would have worked out well. Besides, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and there’s no accounting for taste. Perhaps you wouldn’t have found him good looking, who knows?”

John sputtered. Was Alex out of his mind? Even though he had already looked at him once, Lafayette’s reappearance was no less jarring than before. His beauty was arresting, lived in every one of his graceful movements, from his walk back to the table to the delicate way he offered the champagne flute to John. John tracked his hands, large and long fingered, soft. Remembered with a jolt Lafayette taking his own, the warmth of his lips against his skin. Tried to steady his mind. 

“Before we begin with the, um, small chat. Alexander--” Alex looked up at the sharp way Lafayette said his name. “--Has something to say to you.”

John said nothing, just looked at Alex, whose grin was now gone and his eyes as wide as saucers.

“Jack, I’m so sorry for leaving you the other night. I should have been more sensitive to your needs and realized that after introducing something… different to our relationship that I needed to be there for you and make sure you were ok. Sometimes I can be dense about other people’s needs and forget that everyone is not like me and can bounce back from an intense scene with very little aftercare.”

Half of what Alex was saying made no sense to John, and then Laf cut in.

“I had told him he should stay the night with you, that you should be taken care of after your first time, so imagine my displeasure at him not only leaving you alone, but taking the subway by himself in the middle of the night.”

Alex hung his head in shame.

John was still stuck on the fact that Alex and Lafayette had communicated--extensively--about what had transpired the other night. He felt so vulnerable, it was like he was the only one naked at the table. None of this made any sense. 

What made less sense is after his little speech, Alex popped up to go wash his hands, said he’d be back momentarily. 

Lafayette seized one of John’s hands, squeezed it in his own. 

“John Laurens, I want to thank you. I know you have been so patient, so caring for Alexander, despite our unconventional arrangement. It is so refreshing to see him happy with another in his life. Usually things with others fizzle out and Alexander can be so sensitive. He really cares about you. I am thrilled to finally meet you, and hope that perhaps, we can grow… closer?” 

The way he delivered that last line sent a shiver down John’s back. The wolfish look in his eye, the way his voice played with each word, the little smile on his lips. This wasn’t what John had expected at all, to be flirted with by Alex’s gorgeous boyfriend. He was at a loss for words.

“I… yes.” John kicked himself silently.

“You are much quieter than I expected,” Lafayette said. “I am interested in what… methods our Alexander has used to get you to talk.”

Why was every fucking sentence out of this guy’s mouth loaded with innuendo? 

“Sorry. I’m a little… shocked right now.”

Lafayette cocked his head, his face arranged in puzzlement. 

“And why is that, John Laurens?”

“Alex kind of… sprung this on me?”

“You mean to say… he did not tell you I was joining you two this morning?”

“No. He did not.” John withdrew his hand from Laf’s grip so he could fiddle with his napkin. 

As soon as Alex rejoined them, Lafayette laid into him, jabbering in rapid-fire French. John couldn’t understand a word of it, and was shocked when Alex responded back in French. 

“John Laurens, I can assure you,” Laf cut in, switching back to English. “This behavior will not go unchecked. Alexander knows better and knows what happens when he is naughty.”

Alex made a sound like an upset cat. “More corner time?” he whined. “I already did a half hour for Thursday.”

“Which clearly did not work,” Laf said slowly. “So perhaps some more long term restrictions on more… pleasurable activities will be necessary.”

John thought he might pass out. What the fuck were they talking about, punishments and restrictrictions like Lafayette was Alex’s parent instead of his boyfriend. 

“What are you? Grounded?” John joked, attempted to slightly ease the tension. 

“I wish,” Alex grumbled. Lafayette flashed him a warning look.

“Perhaps this topic is not suitable for mixed company,” Lafayette said, correctly reading the bewildered look on John’s face. He studied him for a minute, his eyes searching. 

“How about you tell us of your childhood, John?” Lafayette said kindly. “I am eager to learn all about you.”

John swallowed once, twice. Took a sip of his mimosa. Steeled himself into attempting to survive what had to be the strangest date of his life. 

***

The walk back to his building found John Laurens in a confused, but floaty headspace. So many different emotions had coursed through him for the last two hours, it was incredible his heart had been able to sustain the onslaught. The sweeping, crashing storm of fear upon initially coming face to face with Lafayette. The pinch of panic. A gnawing presence of anger, directed at Alex for his complete disregard of his feelings. 

However, despite the undercurrent of anxiety that beat under John’s skin, these more upsetting feelings gave way to something softer throughout the course of the meal. The wonderfully appealing way Lafayette sprinkled him with questions, hanging on his every word. Alex’s gentle smile in the background while he sipped his coffee. The two of them together, sharing a laugh. John expected to feel jealous, to feel rage, but that was swept aside as soon as Lafayette gathered him in his arms for a good-bye hug, then pretended to examine a window display so Alex could kiss John in semi-privacy before parting. 

“Don’t be mad,” Alex had whispered against his mouth. “I like you a lot. I wouldn’t have made you meet him if I didn’t.”

Now, John was home, was able to unpack the morning in the privacy of his own space. Considered the chemistry between Alex and Lafayette. That interesting play off of each other, the way Alex almost deferred to his boyfriend. The playfulness there. The tender way Lafayette would look at Alex, casually touch the back of his hand, swipe bites of pancake off of his plate. Alex seemed more relaxed than John had ever really seen him, as if Lafayette’s mere presence was grounding. 

The way Alex and Lafayette fit together made a lot of sense, and instead of feeling threatened, like John expected he would, he felt very at ease. Seeing them together, as a couple, took away that unknown, the mystery. Instead, what he saw was two people very secure and in love with each other, which in a way made him feel amazing. Special because there was room in Alex’s heart for him. Despite sitting at a table with the other object of his affection, the way he spoke to John, said his name, smiled at him, looked at him, was all the same as if it were just the two of them.

And of course, there was the matter of just how damn good looking Lafayette was. John was almost grateful for the bizarre set up, because had he met Lafayette under any other circumstances, he would have made a complete ass of himself. He was simply gorgeous, and John often turned into a stammering mess of idiocy and panic in front of men who looked as incredible as him. And Lafayette was so at ease with himself, lived in every second fully. Didn’t carry himself in that aloof way most really hot guys did. Laughed with his whole body. Smile lit up his whole face. Watched whoever was speaking with laser intensity.

John thought back on the hug too, the full body contact, the feeling of Lafayette’s arms around him. He realized in surprise he was flushed just thinking about it. How warm Lafayette was, how broad, how strong his arms felt, how good he smelled, how--

The chiming of his phone broke him out of his reverie.

“Hello?” he said, surprised to see Alex’s name on the caller id.

“Hi Jack, it’s me,” Alex said, his voice sounding far away. “I got you on speaker. Laf is here too.”

“Hello, John Laurens!”

“What’s up?” John was nervous. Alex never called him, preferred to text. 

“So, this is gonna sound kind of weird, but like. Ok, so. What I did the last few days was bad. And. Um.” Alex dropped his voice, said something in French to Laf.

“John Laurens, if I may. There are some aspects of mine and Alexander’s relationship that are unconventional. So please keep an open mind when I explain this to you. Usually, when Alexander acts up and is naughty, he receives a consequence for his behavior.”

John inhaled sharply. Maybe it was just the way Laf spoke, the cadence of his voice, but this all sounded so suggestive. “Ok.”

“He has committed several infractions that are not just bad, but possibly hurtful to you. Leaving you alone after having you submit was a very irresponsible choice, and then failing to inform you that I was invited to brunch was not only rude, but also potentially disastrous. So when I reflect on his punishment, I am of course thinking on ways that he can make up said transgressions to you. Do you follow me?”

“I think so,” John said slowly. The concept of restitution of course was familiar, but in the context of three grown men, very little was making sense.

“Wonderful. So, that said. Alexander, will you please explain your suggested punishment to your boyfriend?”

A quick swooping feeling in John’s heart. Boyfriend?

Alex mumbled something into the phone. Lafayette must have silently admonished him, becuase he groaned then said “Fine! He thinks I shouldn’t be allowed to have an orgasm. For a week.” His voice blunt. 

It was like the gears in John’s head came to a screeching halt. All he could think of to say was, “And how exactly is that making anything up to me? No sex for a week?”

Lafayette chuckled on his end of the line. “No, mon ami, you misunderstand. The two of you may continue your more intimate activities, and by all means, you should. Alexander is just not permitted to finish for the next week. In fact, I think it will be a great time for him to focus on pleasing you, making you feel good. Since his actions have been so selfish, forcing him to consider the... needs of others will be good for him.”

There was a loaded pause. John fiddled with the charger cord leading into his phone.

“This will only transpire with your say-so, John. I am not interested in pursuing this punishment without your full and enthusiastic consent. Since I am not the only one involved in his sex life at the moment.”

John heart fluttered, fingers and toes tingled with warmth. Lafayette wanted his opinion? His permission? His blessing? 

“Can you… tell me more about it?” John finally said, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Oui. What do you want to know?”

“During this… week… what is he allowed to do? And not do? And what is my role in the whole thing?”

“Of course. So, Alex of course may engage in any sexual act as normal. He just may not come. No orgasm, no ejaculation. Your role is to continue to enjoy your time with him. Feel free to use him to your satisfaction, and if the mood strikes, tease him as much as you want.” 

The erotic charge of this conversation was not escaping John’s notice, especially the attention of his dick. The warm, purring tone of Lafayette’s voice. How they spoke of Alex like he wasn’t there…

“I must warn you, John Laurens. Alexander can be quite convincing when he wants something, and he will try to persuade you into letting him cheat. Do you think you can be strong and resist?”

John’s head was spinning now. Alex desperate. Alex needy. Alex begging. Fuck.

“I can,” John said simply. He heard Alex inhale sharply on the line. Suddenly there was a shifting sound, then Lafayette’s voice, clearer and louder in his ear. He’d gone off of speaker.

“Tell me, truly, how this arrangement is making you feel,” he said all low. “If you are uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“Honestly?” John was surprised at the gruffness of his own voice. “I’m… interested? I think?”

“Oh good. And please, if you want to back out at any time, just let me and him know. I will text you so you have my number, if that is all right?”

“Oh! Um. Of course, yeah. That makes sense.”

“I am glad. I am going to hand the phone to Alexander now. It was marvelous meeting you today, John Laurens. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Yeah, Lafayette. Same.”

Shuffling sounds, then Alex. “Hiiii,” he said all whiny. Dejected. 

“Hey baby,” John said, failing to hide the smile in his voice. “You ok?”

Alex made a noncommittal sound. “It’s fine. Just know like a week? I’m gonna be pretty grumpy.”

“You’ll live. And maybe you’ll think twice before being mean to me again.”

“When can I see you again? Tonight?”

A grin spread across John’s face. “Sure. Come over whenever.”

As soon as they hung up, John could no longer deny exactly how turned on he was. Double checking his front door was locked, he then collapsed onto his bed. Let his mind continue to drift as he shimmied out of his jeans. 

His mind raced. His fantasies never fit narratives, instead more like snippets of images. The anticipation of having Alex with him again. Of both of them hard, giving Alex a few teasing strokes, hearing him whine when he took his hand away. Sending him home to Lafayette, still hard and leaking and so needy, of Alex rutting up on Laf, practically crying for it. 

John thought about Laf now, his sturdy, toned body, his dark and soft skin. Laf laid Alex out on the bed, said in that syrupy voice “And did you behave for John Laurens?” Undressing both of them. Tears in Alex’s eyes as Laf touched his engorged dick. “Please,” he would say. “Please.” And then Lafayette would be touching him, opening him, laughing quietly and calmly at how Alex would arch off the bed and into his touch. 

John took himself in hand.

“You are bad,” Laf would tell Alex. “So bad.” And then he was fucking Alex, that glorious body in motion, all rippling muscle and power and John was gazing up at him, his hand in Lafayette’s hair, their lips crashing--

Wait. John paused. He was no longer watching Alex and Laf, but instead thinking of himself in Alex’s place. Under Lafayette. Lafayette inside of him. There was no denying the flood of lust simply from thinking the sentence. Shit. This was… new. Different. He tried to clear his head, steer his thoughts back to Alex, but the image of Lafayette holding him, on top of him, fucking him was too powerful. Before he could even really think through it, he was coming, hard, all over his hand and stomach. 

John swore to himself, annoyed he hadn’t grabbed his boxers in time to muffle the mess. Oh well. He tripped over to his bathroom, hoping the hot spray of the shower would erase every trace of the evidence. The stickiness. The confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, please? Pretty Please?


	8. SUMMER

**SUMMER**

The season changed. John wrapped up his project at _City Blues_ , moved on to a small series of illustrations for an entertainment blog. Things with Alexander continued to progress. And with Lafayette. Because they came as a package, didn’t they? 

It was so much easier to fall in love in the summer. Sitting on Alex’s balcony overlooking the park, a cold beer in one hand, his fingers tangling with Alex’s. Their sweaty hair piled on their heads. Lafayette used his hip to open the sliding glass door, joined them. Perched on one of the bar stools, a dish in hand. 

John squeezed Alex’s hand, tore his eyes from Laf, spooning strawberry ice cream into his mouth. While wearing a goddamn tank top of all things.

“It is so hot, mon chou,” he pouted. “Summer in the city is unbearable.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s better than the fucking snow,” he said. Grinned at John, who took a sip of his beer.

“I wish you would let me take you to our summer home,” Lafayette continued. “The countryside is so pleasant this time of year, quiet.”

“Where do you summer?” John asked, ignoring the look on Alex’s face. Hated when John sounded, in his words, “snooty.”

Lafayette’s answer was some quickly said town in France that John didn’t quite catch. A far cry from the house on Hilton Head where his family escaped to during the hottest days of the year.

“You would love it, mon amor,” Laf continued. “Endless fields of lavender and wildflowers. We have a small brook that runs behind the house, it is always refreshing to wade in. For dinner we eat fresh fish and radishes spread with butter, sprinkled with salt.” 

The look on Alex’s face, amused and slightly disarmed. He rolled his eyes for John’s benefit. “We’ve been through this, baby. I have to work.”

“I know this. But surely Washington would be understanding, you deserve a break.”

“Drop it,” Alex said softly, seriously. 

Lafayette finished his ice cream in silence. Said something in French to Alex, then went back inside.

“That sounds like a nice trip,” John said lightly.

“Drop it,” Alex repeated.

That night John dreamt of trailing behind Lafayette and Alex through a sea of lavender, rustling in the cool night air, the moon shining silver behind them. 

***

A few days later when John visited, he brought a bag from Whole Foods. Lafayette’s eyes glittered as he unpacked it on the table.

Organic radishes. Imported European butter with an astonishingly high fat content. A tiny glass vial of the priciest sea salt John could find. A bundle of dried lavender.

Lafayette chattered happily while he dug through the kitchen for a cutting board, a paring knife. They sat at the table, ate slices of radish that Lafayette cut with meticulous precision, smeared with the creamy butter, dusted with salt. The spicy bitterness on their tongues, chased by crisp sips of pinot grigio. 

Across the table, Alex looked at John like he was just now seeing him for the first time. 

The next time John came over, the bunch of lavender had been tied with a yellow ribbon, hung over the front door. “For luck,” Lafayette said simply.

***

If summer days were lazy and slow, summer evenings were charged and heady. Alex would go home with him every few days, spend part of the night tangled in the bed sheets, skin sweaty and sticky and covered in gooseflesh because John kept his air conditioner as low as it would go. Alex still wouldn’t stay. So John savored him while he could, tasted every corner, memorized every sound from his throat. They did not broach the topic of anal again, were content to pleasure one another with their hands and mouths and occasionally a round of dry humping. John decided that some things were just too intimate, and it was still too early. Told himself when Alex would be willing to sleep the whole night in his bed would be the night they could give that part of themselves to one another.

On nights Alex didn’t visit, John’s blood still thrummed hot. Tried to keep his mind focused on his boyfriend’s face, the visions of him he tucked away from memory while he fucked into his own fist. But he always came hardest whenever his mind flitted with the idea of the three of them together. 

***

Other nights were for fun, for the casual gatherings of the mishmash of Alex and Laf’s friends. There was Eliza, one of Alex’s exes, a pretty dark haired girl with a soft voice who was a caseworker with CPS. Her capacity for empathy was both inspiring and humbling, but when she wasn’t discussing social welfare or criminal justice reform, she could play a mean game of beer pong and throw out witty zingers at everyone. Peggy was Eliza’s younger sister, a very flirty graduate student. And Angelica, who in addition to being Alex’s boss was a very old friend of the group, the third Schuyler sister. She rarely made it over, what with the new baby, but when she did, she could drink anyone under the table. Also, Hercules Mulligan, an aspiring fashion designer who looked anything but. He had a goofy sense of humor and welcomed John to the “family” with open arms. 

When John got together with all of them, they usually drank, ate, played video or board games and just sort of screwed around. John was shocked at well he fit in with the group, accepted. One typical night, John gathered with Alex, Laf and Herc for a rousing game of Mario Kart and several rounds of drinks. Alex kept mixing these horrible rums and cokes, but John kept drinking them, despite the burn. At some point, Herc had passed out on the couch. Alex was practically sitting on John’s lap. He plied him with another drink. 

“This game is stupid,” Lafayette grumbled, suddenly pressing the reset button on the Wii mid-race.

“Hey!” John griped, shifting so Alex tumbled off his lap. “I was winning!” 

Lafayette shrugged. Thumbed through the home screen to select Super Smash Brothers. “I want to play a different game. This one.”

“Whatever. I don’t really care what game I kick your ass in,” John teased. Took another sip of that awful drink. Realized with a start that he was drunker than he thought. Oh well.

“You guys should bet something,” Alex said. Rolled onto his stomach so he could watch. 

“Like what?” John asked. Drained his drink, picked up Alex’s to sip from that as well. 

“Dunno.”

“Oh, oh!” John said quickly, jolting again and sloshing some rum and coke on his shirt. “Loser has to buy the winner lunch. Winner’s--” He hiccuped. “Winner’s choice.”

“I do not want lunch,” Lafayette whined. His accent was thicker than normal. Perhaps he was drunk too?

“Well what do you want then?” John whined right back. 

“A kiss,” Lafayette replied. Failed to hide his smirk. Alex giggled, laid his face in his arms. 

“Seriously?” John asked. “Free meal? Versus a kiss? You’re fucking on, dude.”

“Shake on it,” Alex demanded, wheezing with laughter. John leaned over Alex to shake Laf’s hand, which turned out to be more of a motionless clasp. Laf was too focused on selecting a stage on the game.

John smiled to himself as he picked Link as his player and Lafayette went with Kirby. What an idiot, he was gonna get dominated with that stupid--

“Hey!” John yelped as his character was thrown off screen in a KO for the third time in a row. It appeared that Lafayette did not suck at video games. Just Mario Kart. He played with a meditative focus, and throttled John relentlessly. 

When the results screen flashed up, John tossed his WiiMote to the side, crumpled into a heap on the floor. “I lost!” he moaned, nudged Alex with his foot for comfort. “I can’t believe I lost. No free lunch.”

“Rules are rules,” Alex responded, which honestly didn’t make any sense but John was too drunk and too nervous now to care. He had to kiss his boyfriend’s boyfriend. Shit.

He crawled over to where Lafayette sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch. Looking at John with those huge brown eyes. “To the victor go the spoils,” Alex said in a sing song voice. Rolled over again, watched them with a shit-eating grin on his face. “My two boyfriends sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”

“Shut up, will you?” John snapped. Without meeting Lafayette’s eye, he pecked the quickest kiss in the history of the world on Laf’s cheek, then tried to scramble away. Instead was tackled by Alex, who in a fit of surprising strength wrestled him to the floor. It was Lafayette’s turn to laugh. 

“You call that a kiss?” Alex asked. “Look, Jack, I feel I have lots of experience in this matter so I can say with confidence that you do indeed know how to kiss a man. You’re gonna do it proper now. C’mere, Laf.” 

Lafayette chuckled, and was suddenly looming over John. Alex had his arms pinned into the carpet. John vaguely knew that if he really wanted, he could knock Alex off of him and escape. So why didn’t he want to?

With infinite care, Lafayette dipped down. Breathed on his face. Too close. By way of an invitation, John let his eyes close, parted his lips. When Laf finally caught his mouth with his, it was electric. John was too shocked to even kiss back, just let Lafayette lead, let his tongue in, let the slide and the taste of it overwhelm him. Didn’t even know when Alex let his arms go, just knew he was wrapping them around Lafayette’s neck, dragging him closer. Pushing himself into the kiss, wanting to live up to Alex’s praise, wanted to “do it proper.” 

Too soon, Lafayette was breaking the kiss, pulling away, sitting up. Still smiling, he said something in French that made Alex whoop with glee. 

John noted the room was spinning.

“My turn,” Alex proclaimed, descended on John with a fierce energy. Tongues and lips and cheeks and teeth and then he was gone, kissing Laf with the same force. John noted somewhere that this was the first time he saw the two of them kiss like that. He found he didn’t mind watching it. 

Then Alex was on him again, whispering “let’s just do this all night,” and they were kissing and kissing and kissing until all John could taste was rum and Alex, the ghost of Lafayette’s lips still on his own.

***

John woke up the next morning on the floor, his head propped on a throw pillow and a small blanket tossed over him. 

He was alone. 

***

Despite the fact they never actually talked about it happening, after John and Lafayette kissed things between the three of them changed for the better. Suddenly, John was spending more time at their place than his. He’d pop over after work to hang out, see Alex, have dinner. Strangest was when the three of them started eating together with some regularity. Lafayette was between jobs that summer, so home more often than not. Alex worked longer than he needed, his arrival home often erratic. John noticed the two of them sucked at planning meals, ate out more than was healthy, so he started taking it upon himself to pick up groceries. 

Now, John’s own cooking skills were quite lacking. He was better in the kitchen than Laf, who knew how to make a few extremely fancy dishes that had been passed through his family. He could also bake, but was flummoxed by things like making pasta or scrambling eggs. Alex was actually a fantastic cook, a skill John learned about one evening in July when Alex threw together some spicy peanut Thai noodle dish. The thing was Alex sucked at planning and shopping for ingredients. So, when John started doing that for him, he made dinner more often than not. John would offer his own dishes, the few things he could make with confidence. Healthy, fresh meals with grilled chicken and fish and lots of vegetables. 

The three soon fell into a pattern. On Mondays, Alex and John would cook together, putting together a beautiful meal for the three of them. John used Tuesdays to himself. On Wednesdays Alex was always home late because of his editorial meetings, so he’d pick up takeout on the way home, gleeful to find his boyfriends in the living room, John on the half-chair and Laf laid out on the sofa, watching Netflix or playing a video game. Thursdays were special because Lafayette took a late afternoon yoga class, so John would always beat both of them to the apartment. He’d have dinner ready and waiting for Lafayette and Alex, and the three of them would always curl up for a movie afterwards. 

Weekends were a toss up. But the predictable pattern of the work week had John steady, happy, thriving. He loved spending time with both Lafayette and Alex, loved the three of them together laughing and joking and talking. And while Alex was his actual boyfriend, the more he got to know Lafayette the more he appreciated the sort of things Laf could do for him that Alex couldn’t. Laf always seemed genuinely interested in his day, in his work, in his life. Alex was, as well, but talking with Alex with this stuff was more of a volleyball match. Lafayette liked to listen, and ask questions…

John told himself to stop comparing them. Tried to think of their arrangement as if Lafayette were just Alex’s roommate, one he happened to be friendly with. Yeah. Roommate. 

And sex was still confusing. Sometimes, Alex would come over on Tuesdays when they didn’t eat together. Other nights, he might follow John home to mess around, only to disappear after midnight. A few scant times, if Laf went to bed early, they’d even hook up in the living in the room, like a couple of teenagers. Giggling, fumbling in the dark, shushing each other. John always wondered why they did that, it’s not like Laf didn’t know the things they did together. And what would even happen if he heard? Would he come out to see what caused the commotion? His heart always leapt and his stomach twisted at the mere idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your enthusiasm for this piece is giving me life. I really appreciate any and all comments. You can also come talk to me on tumblr: @likearootlesstree


	9. SEPTEMBER

**SEPTEMBER**

That boundary between summer and fall. The days were still blazing hot, but shortening, and the edges of the leaves started curling. Halloween decor was out, and pumpkin spice flavored everything appeared, but everyone was still in shorts and sandals. 

Between their weekly dinner schedule, shared nights on the couch, and the several times a week Alex ended up in his bed, it was jarring for John to remember he’d only been seeing Alex a few months. The way he had slipped into their lives made it seem like he’d always known Lafayette and Alex, like he’d always been a part of them. If it had been easy to fall in love in the summer, keeping up with it as the season changed was practically unstoppable. 

Despite the calendar, the weather did its own thing, blue skies, high sun, stifling heat, and the occasional afternoon thunderstorm. It was one said afternoon, John had left his umbrella at home, was having to dart between awnings so the groceries he had just bought didn’t get water logged. John himself got drenched, his sneakers completely soaked, his hair plastered to his face, neck and shoulders. 

When he got to Alex’s place, all he wanted was a change of dry clothes. “Alex? Baby girl?” he called out. The lights were off and the rooms quiet, but he knew Alex was home, the door had been unlocked, saw his messenger bag and shoes by the door. John set the groceries on the counter, pulled his wet shoes off. 

“Alex?” he called again, wandered down the hall towards the master bedroom, pausing at the linen closet so he could help himself to a fresh, dry towel. “You in here?” he asked, poking his head into the bedroom, finding it and the ensuite empty. John shrugged, wondering if perhaps Alex had run down to the lobby for the mail or to take out the trash.

Before putting away the groceries, he needed a dry change of clothes. Thankfully, he and Alex were the same size so he went into one of the spare bedrooms that Alex used as an office/dressing room. Flung open the closet door, hoping to dig for a pair of sweatpants, and instead was greeted by a startling sight.

Alex, crouched in the back of the closet, his face against his knees and hands over his ears. “Alex?” John asked, clothes hunt forgotten so he could join Alex on the floor. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.

There was no answer, instead just some shuddering breaths, and a quiet shriek after a loud thunderclap. If he was aware of John’s presence, he made no sign of it, just continued shutting out whatever was happening. John kept his arm draped around him, feeling suddenly panicked and at a loss of how to help him. He went for his phone, surprised to see a text from Lafayette.

 **Lafayette** : Are you at the apartment with Alexander?

 **John Laurens** : I just got here. Found Alex in closet. He’s freaking out.

 **John Laurens** : What do I do?????

 **Lafayette** : I am on my way, my cab is stuck in the traffic. Stay with him. DO NOT LEAVE. 

**Lafayette** : I will be there as fast as I can. 

**John Laurens** : I’m not leaving, don’t worry. Just tell me what to do.

 **Lafayette** : Stay there. Do not leave his side. Hold him. 

John did as he was instructed, not that he would have left Alex in this state anyway. His quiet breathing eventually went into some rather noisy tears, he folded tighter in himself. His whole body was wracked with sobs, he clutched at his own hair, and John just pressed himself closer, squeezed his arm around his shoulder, talked very quiet to him. “Shhh, it’s alright Alex, I’m here, Laf is on his way, it’s ok, it’s ok…”

Worse than the sobbing was the deafening silence, the eerie stillness which followed, Alex’s only panicked reactions being the occasional flinch from each bolt of thunder, each flash of lightning. They were fewer and fewer, though the rain had not let up at all. 

Finally, the door slamming open and Lafayette rushing in, shedding his drenched hoodie, joining Alex and John in the closet. Instead of knocking John aside, like he expected, he came to kneel in front of Alex, put a firm hand on his arm. 

Spoke to him in soft French. John watched for a moment, then shifted to move, to let Laf take over. Surprised when Lafayette stopped him. “Stay, John. He needs us both.” Launched back into talking to Alex, soft soothing tones, rubbing his arm until Alex loosened enough so Lafayette could gather him into his lap. John’s heart hitched as he watched Alex settle in Laf’s arms, let himself be maneuvered, rested his head on Lafayette’s chest. There was a vacant look in his eyes that frightened John, and watching Laf pet and soothe him was making him feel like an intruder. 

So, when Alex closed his eyes and visibly relaxed, John was relieved. 

“I am going to take him to the bed, to lie down,” Lafayette said softly. “I will be right back.” 

John nodded, watched with some weird sense of longing as Lafayette stood, carried Alex with ease to their bedroom. Decided to go and put the groceries away. Was dismayed to find the pint of ice cream he had bought all melted on the counter. Busied himself with putting the rest away, mopping up the ice cream mess. It felt good to be useful.

“Thank you,” Lafayette said from the doorway of the kitchen. Leaned against the doorframe. He look tired, and a little sheepish. “I am sorry I could not be here sooner. Traffic was very bad, and when the storms come, Alex can be... frightened.” 

“Is he ok?” John asked.

“He will be, yes, he is resting now.” Laf looked at him, considered. “John, you are all wet! Your clothes are soaked and your hair. Oh, and you are shivering, come here.” John realized with a start Laf was right, he’d never gotten to change or dry off, and the dampness combined with the AC meant he caught a slight chill. 

“I’m fine, I can just... I’ll head home, I’ll change there--hey!!” 

“Nonsense!” Lafayette snapped, had caught John by the arms. Completely shocked him as he started to peel off John’s shirt for him. “You will get in some dry clothes, have some hot dinner, stay here until the rain is done.”

“Hey, what are you--” John griped, completely gobsmacked that Lafayette had just wrestled him out of his t-shirt, and seemed intent on his pants next, as his hands went to John’s waistband.

“You will catch a cold, John, you need out of the wet clothing!”

John danced out of his reach, suddenly aware that he was shirtless in the middle of the kitchen, teeth chattering. Mortified that his nipples were hard from the cool air. Realized that Laf hadn’t advanced on him, just stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding his dripping t-shirt, looking at John with his eyebrows raised high. John flushed, wrapped his arms around himself. “What?” he shot. “What is it?”

The look on Lafayette’s face melted into a sly smile. “Nothing,” he said. “Come, we will get you clothes from Alex’s room. Do you want to take a shower?”

“Yeah…” John said slowly. “Rain always makes me feel... gritty.” 

“Ok well,” Lafayette tilted his head to the guest bathroom. “Go take a hot shower, I will set out some dry clothes for you.” Laf turned to go to Alex’s room, paused for a moment. Looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, just shook his head, leaving John to dart into the bathroom alone.

When he emerged, clean, dressed in some of Alex’s pajamas, his hair wrung out and twisted into a bun, Lafayette waited for him at the table. Had set two bowls of steaming soup out, plus some bread he had sliced. “Drink,” he said simply, pushing a steaming mug of tea into John’s hands. 

John sipped his tea, sat in front of one of the bowls. It was just stuff heated from the can, but the gesture of Laf making them dinner wasn’t lost on John. He realized how late it was, how empty his stomach, so he ate in grateful silence. 

“I want to check with you,” Lafayette finally said, breaking the silence. “Did the events this evening change how you feel about Alexander?” 

“What?” John said, shocked. His spoon clattered against his bowl. “No! Not at all! Why... why would you think that?”

Lafayette shook his head. “Alexander is always worried that his phobia is a sign of weakness? Often hides it from others, afraid it will… scare them off.”

“Does it happen at lot?”

“His panic attacks? Only during a storm, especially a loud one. If he is with… me… or someone else, he can usually be coached through it, but if he is alone…” Lafayette shook his head, his eyes sad. 

“Has Alex always been like this?”

Lafayette made eye contact, held it. “How much has Alexander told you about his childhood? His family?’

John shrugged. “Not much. Said he was born in St. Thomas, moved to New York when he was kid. Why?”

“I am only going to tell you this story because I know how close you and Alexander are. He is bad to hide this from you, but if you are going to be part of our circle, it is only right that you know. I know you are not going anywhere, so it is important. Do you follow?”

“I think so.”

“Good. When Alexander was little, there was a big storm that hit his island, a hurricane. It caused a lot of damage. He was home alone, his mother, she was at work. She worked at a fancy beach resort. This hurricane, it caused floods, knocked down houses and trees. Alexander was alone through the worst of it. It was a very traumatic experience. He saw his neighborhood completely destroyed. The resort where his mother worked was damaged very badly as well. That is why they come here, to New York, so she could find work.” Lafayette paused, sipped his tea. “So, now, when Alexander hears the storms, it reminds him of being small, and alone and scared in that hurricane.”

“I never knew…” John said quietly. “That’s really sad.”

“Yes, we all have painful things we live through. That is why we need our loved ones, here together, to help us cope. He will be ok after he sleeps. He will most likely be very embarrassed you saw him like that.”

“He shouldn’t be,” John said quickly. “I’m… I... Alex is so important to me. I’ll do anything, anything to help him.” John felt a sudden flare of anger, wonder if any of Alex’s past partners had judged him for this, if that’s why he felt the need to hide it from John. The thought was infuriating. 

“Do not fret,” Laf said evenly. “Do you want to stay tonight? It is still raining very heavy.”

“I… I… uh, yeah, I can stay.” John chewed his bottom lip. “I’ll sleep on the couch, yeah. It’s only nine, do you want to watch some TV or something or…?”

“You can join us in the bed, John,” Laf said quietly. “The couch, it is too uncomfortable, bad for you back.”

“Uhh, no. That’s… that’s you and Alex and… I couldn’t. No, the couch is fine.” John stood up quickly, whisked their empty bowls away. Hoped he could hide his blush as he rinsed them off in the sink.

“John, there is no denying this arrangement is unusual. Please know that, since we both care for Alex, and how emotional tonight has been, you would be welcome to sleep with us.”

Instead of an answer, John made a squeaking sound. 

“I see. Well, if you are uncomfortable, I am understanding. Just know the offer is there.” Laf himself went to the couch, fished the remote out from the cushions so he could turn on Netflix. “The bed is big enough for three, and I promise I do not bite.”

John practically dropped the pot he was washing. 

Thankfully, the topic was dropped once he joined Lafayette on the couch, taking care to leave the appropriate amount of space between them. Let Laf choose, tried not groan when he picked some b-list horror film. Spent the length of the movie resisting the urge to close the gap between them, to fit himself under Lafayette’s large and welcoming arm, to snuggle into his warmth and hide his face from the cheap scares of the movie. Forced himself to stare straight ahead, his hands in his lap. 

Before he went to bed, Lafayette found him a blanket and a pillow, made sure he was relatively comfortable before retiring. 

“Good night, John. Sleep well.”

“You too,” John called back softly. Rolled over and fit his face into the pillow. Could smell nothing but Alex and Lafayette all around him. 

***

In the middle of the night, John woke with a start. Alex peering down at him in the dark. 

“Mmmph,” John said, squinting up at Alex. “What is it?”

“Come to bed, Jack. Stop being silly,” he said softly. Laid a hand on John’s cheek. 

John shifted, rolled so his back was to Alex. “You know I can’t,” he said in a small voice. 

A minute passed, then two. Alex’s hand on his cheek, in his hair. And then he was on the couch too, squirming his way under the blanket and curling against John’s back. John said nothing, just laid his hand over Alex’s where it rested on his stomach. Was afraid speaking would break the spell, would send Alex back into the bedroom, back with Lafayette. Away from him. 

***

“I do not want to hear about your back,” Lafayette said the next morning. John opened his eyes, saw Alex sitting up, taking the mug of coffee from Laf, rubbing his eyes. “You are both so stubborn. Unbelievable.”

No one had noticed he was awake, so John shut his again. Listened. 

“I feel fine,” Alex grumped. 

“For now.” Laf snapped. 

“I’m sorry. I just felt bad. He was out here by himself.”

Laf responded in French, sounding annoyed. 

“I know. Still.”

No more talking, just sounds of clattering the kitchen. When John decided to actually wake up, Laf greeted him with a bagel, toasted and smeared with the perfect amount of veggie cream cheese. An egg bagel with poppy seeds, and the good cream cheese with actual vegetable pieces in it from the deli down the street. John’s favorite breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you are enjoying so far. Please feel free to leave me a comment or come talk to me on tumblr: @likearootlesstree I really enjoy comments thank you so much! <3


	10. OCTOBER

**OCTOBER**

Autumn proper. John moved on to another project. Alex and Lafayette dragged him into so many different fall and Halloween activities it was dizzying. A pumpkin patch. Carving jack-o-lanterns and roasting pumpkin seeds. Some fall festival right outside of the city that Alex and Laf had been attending since college, complete with face painting and cider and even a fucking hayride. Lafayette’s enthusiasm for the season was infectious, and John found himself trailing after them, a leaf design in gold painted on his cheek. 

One Saturday Alex even rented a car so they could drive up state. They spent the day looking at the foliage before visiting an orchard to pick apples. Lafayette babbled happily, filled his basket with several varieties, being extremely selective about what he picked. Alex’s apple picking skills were haphazard, he liked to try and actually climb the trees to get the ones at the top branches because they were “better” for whatever reason. John was content to sit on the cold ground, the leaves crunching under him, and fish his sketch book out of his backpack. 

“Whatcha drawing?” said Alex suddenly, peering down at John. 

“Nothing,” John said quickly, flipping the page. Replacing the quick sketches he had done of Alex and Laf with a fresh white page. He hated showing his art to the subject in question. It was always so embarrassing to look at how someone else saw you. 

Alex shrugged, knew John was lying, but for once in his life didn’t press. Took a bite of the shiny red apple in his hand. 

“Did you wash that?” John asked suspiciously. Alex shrugged. 

“It’s nature, it’s clean!” He held the apple towards John. “Wanna bite? It’s good.”

“No thanks, I like my apples free of deer piss and bug poop,” John said, smirking. Alex shrugged again, crunched another bite. 

“Your loss.”

They had to lug several baskets of the apples back to the car. When they got home, it became apparent exactly how much they had picked. Lafayette set to work, having the boys sort the apples by variety and color. He arranged several baskets and bowls filled with them, the most colorful ones, and set them around the apartment, including, inexplicably, the bathroom. The next few hours were dedicated to baking.

“I swear, if you make me peel another apple, Lafayette, I am going to stab you,” Alex griped, his fingers pruny. He brandished the knife he held threateningly. John rolled his eyes, plucked another apple from the pile and attacked it with his own knife. There were apple peel shavings all over the floor because Alex kept missing the trash can.

“Would you rather trade jobs?” Laf retorted. He was wearing a nondescript apron in tan plaid, rolling out pie crusts on the counter top. His curls were falling around his face and he had a smudge of flour on his cheek. John thought he looked adorable. Returned his focus to the half peeled apple in his hands. 

“I’d rather we didn’t bake a million apple pies for no reason. This is why we have bakeries, Laf. If you want apple pie, we go pick one up like normal people.”

“John, will you tell your boyfriend that my homemade pie will make his soul sing, it is not some mass produced over processed bland garbage and if that is what is pleasing to his palate, he can find somewhere else to eat dessert tonight?”

“And John, will you kindly tell my boyfriend that he is out of his goddamn mind, that no pie is worth all of this work? It can’t be that good.”

“Leave me out of this,” John said slowly, starting to peel yet another apple. “If it’s too hard, Alex, I’ll finish peeling the apples. I don’t mind.”

Lafayette looked at him with shining eyes. “See, Alexander. John supports me and my goals and my dreams. Unlike you.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave you two alone then. Suck up,” he shot at John, stuck his tongue out and stalked off, grumbling to himself. 

“I’m not sucking up,” John called over the breakfast bar. “Someone’s gotta help. We have like seventy pounds of apples here.”

“Sorry, Jack, can’t hear you with your nose that far up Laf’s ass!” 

John blushed, stared down at the apple in his hands.

“What a brat,” Lafayette said with finality. “He is just mad because you are better at it than him.” He and John worked in relative silence, until all the apples had been peeled and the crusts rolled. Lafayette then showed John how to core the apples before slicing them, adding the slices to a giant mixing bowl. 

They made the filling together, Laf measuring out the flour and the sugar, then adding an array of spices--cinnamon, ginger, lemon zest and cardamom. 

John set to work easing the crusts into the shallow pie pans. He was crimping some of the edges, when suddenly Laf was behind him, peering over his shoulder. 

“Looks wonderful, but--” he reached around John with both arms, set his hands on top of John’s. “Feel here?” Guided John’s hands to a spot in the crust, in the bottom of the pan. John nodded, trying to relax and not feel weird that Lafayette had his arms around him, was touching him, was so close behind him…. “It is stretched too thin, it will shrink when it bakes. You have to smooth it even.”

“Ok,” John breathed, but didn’t move. Lafayette was suddenly stock still. He took a step back, took his hands off of John. 

“Apologies,” he said swiftly, turned to another bowl on the counter. “I have to... uh... mix the crumb topping.”

“Oooh, a crumb topping?” said Alex, who was leaning on the breakfast bar, watching them. John jumped, not even realizing he had been there. “Ok that does sound pretty good.”

“I should not even let you taste any of it,” Lafayette said, all waspish. He had his hands in the mixing bowl, was aggressively working together butter, flour and brown sugar. 

“John will give me a piece,” Alex said, his voice flirty. “He did half the work. You’ll let me try it, right Jack?”

The way Alex asked the question, it was like he was asking about something entirely different, like there was some hidden code or message in his request. John met his eyes, saw a spark of something… curious there. 

“You can have a piece,” John conceded. “But you gotta come clean up these apple peels you left on the floor.”

“Fine,” Alex said. Dropped to the floor to clean up the mess he made just the same.

Hours later, over a dozen pies cooled on the counter. “This one,” Lafayette urged, pointing at a particularly well browned and symmetrical one, “is for Mr. Washington. You are to bring him that tomorrow, understood?” Alex made a face. 

They split one of the less perfect looking ones for dinner. Forewent any type of plates, opted instead to dig in directly to the pie dish, armed with just forks and giant glasses of milk Alex had poured for them. 

Lafayette watched expectantly as John took his first bite. 

“Well?” he said. 

John smiled around the fork. “My soul, it sings,” he teased. Laf smiled all big and Alex giggled. It was just so hard tell whether or not his declaration came from the pie (which admittedly tasted fantastic) or how gently those two looked at him from across the table.


	11. OCTOBER 28TH

**OCTOBER 28TH**

John’s birthday fell on a Sunday that year. That morning, Alex and Lafayette took him out for brunch, thankfully to a different place than where they went the first time John met Laf. Over platters of chocolate chip pancakes and fried chicken with waffles (John’s personal favorite), Lafayette presented him with his gift, a brand new set of Prismacolor pencils, 132 count in a vibrant array of colors. John started at them, a bright spectrum in front of him.

“I noticed your set was starting to wear out,” Lafayette said, sounding nervous. “You are missing a few colors, and some of them are broken…”

“Thank you,” John said. “I’ve had my old set forever, there are… they are so nice. I only have a smaller set anyway. This is perfect. Thank you so much.” John set the gift aside so he could catch Laf in a one-harmed hug. 

The rest of the day Alex and John spent together, just the two of them. Alex took John to the Museum of Modern Art first, was content to follow him through the exhibits, letting John take them in quietly and with little comment. They had a light dinner at a sushi bar, then Alex urged John to take him home, wanted to give him the rest of his birthday presents. 

They were hardly in the door of John’s apartment before Alex was all over him, their hips and mouths connecting, Alex yanking on John’s hair. John let Alex lead him, let him move him over to the bed. Alex broke away, panting, hooked his fingers in John’s belt loops.

“I got some surprises for you, birthday boy,” Alex said. Grinned. “If you’re willing to… experiment a little.”

John looked at Alex, really took him in. Thought about how much he cared about him, how much he trusted him. How pretty he looked right now, all big eyes and wind-whipped hair, lips kiss swollen. “Ok,” John said. Squeezed one of Alex’s hands. “I trust you.”

The grin lit up Alex’s whole face. “God you’re amazing. Ok, we need to talk first though, make sure everything is safe. Is there anything completely off limits?”

They moved to sit on the edge of John’s bed.

“I uh--I’m not ready for uh… for anal.” 

Alex smiled, tucked a curl behind John’s ear. “Ok, baby boy. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of, no.”

“Alright, which brings me to my next point. You know a traffic light, right? Green means go, yellow means slow, and red is stop? Ok, so I might ask you for a color check and you can tell me where you’re at. Or, if at any point, you want to slow or stop, you can use the color system to tell me. Say yellow and I will pause to check in with you. Say red, we stop completely.”

“Yellow means pause, red means we’re done. Ok, got it.” 

“Good. You ready to start?”

John bit his lip, nodded. Leaned in as if to kiss Alex, but was met with a staying hand. “No, honey. Get naked for me, ok?”

A prick of pleasure bloomed in John’s stomach. Even though the command was said in a neutral, quiet tone, something about the way Alex said, the very nature of being told what to do… He flushed and did as requested, shed his clothes at lightning speed. “Good boy,” Alex said, looked over him laying naked on the bed. Went to his messenger bag, rummaged around. Came back with two items in his hands.

“Can I use these on you?” Alex asked, holding up the black leather cuffs. John’s eyes were wide as saucers as he considered. “I’m assuming from your reaction you’ve never had your wrists tied before.”

John shook his head, choked a laugh. “Not since playing cops and robbers as a kid.”

“Are you interested?”

Before he could really mull it over, John nodded, offered his wrists to Alex, who chuckled. He studied John thoughtfully. “I’d love to cuff them behind you, but that can get uncomfortable. God, you’d look so hot, your chest on display. Fuck. But no, here.” With a surprising amount of tenderness, he buckled one, then the other wrist into the leather. Alex withdrew his hands, eyes on John as the latter looked, considered. Black leather circling his wrists, connected by a short length of chain. They didn’t feel particularly heavy duty or well made, and at the moment he had free movement. Then Alex hooked a finger into the chain, guided his hands above his head. And--oh--there it was, just the fucking thought of him clipping them to something, warmth rushed John, and he realized if he actually wasn’t, just the potential of being rendered helpless was so ridiculously thrilling. 

“Color check?” Alex asked, all close in his ear. 

“Good. Green. Yeah, uh, green.”

The smile Alex favored him was wicked. “You sure, baby?” he teased, running his hand over John’s chest, back and forth all light. “You don’t sound so sure…” His fingers found one of John’s nipples, worried it slightly. John jolted from the sudden change in touch, tried to bring his bound hands back down, but Alex caught him by the elbow. “Oh… no, no, no. Hands up here, you bad boy. I’m touching you wherever, and if you try to block me again, I’m gonna tie you to the headboard.”

John gasped, jumped as Alex’s hand found his hip. It wasn’t where he was touching him, it was how. The feather light brushes were just bordering on ticklish, and the unpredictability of the pattern was making John feel all jumpy. The thought ran through him that he wanted to push the boundary, wanted to see if Alex made good on his threat, wanted to perhaps experience being cuffed to something. Really be at Alex’s mercy. The thought made him squirm, which didn’t escape Alex’s notice. 

“What is it?” he said, his voice taking on a coddling tone. He had one hand on John’s thigh, just resting, the other tracing invisible patterns across his abs. John went to bring his hands back down again, and was instantly rewarded with Alex snatching him by the tricep, holding him still. “I already told you what would happen,” he said softly. Not mean. Matter of fact. He spread himself over on top of John so he could get to both of his wrists. With precision and urgency, he undid one cuff, fed it through and around a bar in John’s headboard, then caught John’s wrist back in it. John watched this with laser focus, was entranced by just the ritual of it. Said nothing, did nothing, just let that warmth continue to swallow him, course through his blood until his whole body felt loose and pliant save for his cock, which was unsurprisingly rock hard. 

“Look at this,” Alex said to himself, what with John tied down, could use both of his hands to explore freely. “All mine, all for me.” He sat up, straddled John’s hips, noting the way he arched and sighed from the contact. “The question is, where do I begin, what do I do with you?”

“Anything,” John panted. Shimmied his hips, his cock so heavy and hard it flopped down onto his belly. “Alex…”

“God, you’re a dream.” Alex shuffled up, half-sat, half hovered over John’s chest. Tapped the side of John’s jaw with two fingers. “What a sweet little boy,” he gushed as he pushed the head of his cock past John’s lips. “Just lick,” he said softly. Gave a few shallow thrusts, only letting up when John obliged him, lapped at the tip, worked his tongue against Alex’s slit. “That’s right, baby boy, use that pretty mouth, get papi nice and wet.”

Perhaps if John had been in a slightly more solid state of mind, the introduction of such a title would have made him blush, stammer, even scoff. Instead, it made his dick twitch, his heart stutter, his veins race with pleasure. He licked faster, his tongue exploring, darting, until Alex pulled away. John actually whined at the loss, realized he was enjoying being useful. Being used. Being good?

Alex stretched out against John’s side, swept his hand up and down John’s body. “How long will it take me to count these?” He asked, brushing his fingertips on the clusters of freckles. Alex rolled up into a kneeling position, pressed his mouth into some close lipped kisses across John’s collarbones, chest, stomach. Gripped both of John’s hips, rolled on top of him, let their cocks meet while he kissed him some more. John jerked in the cuffs, wished he could wrap his arms around Alex, flushed with pleasure when he thought about why he couldn’t. Being denied. 

“Papi…” John breathed, trying the name out on his tongue. “Papi, please…”

“What are you asking for, baby boy? Gotta be more specific. Tell papi what you want.”

Blush creeped across John’s cheeks. He pulled on the cuffs slightly. 

“Shy all of a sudden, aren’t we?” Alex teased. Halted his hips where they were lazily grinding against John. “That’s all right. I will just guess until I find what you want…” John made an embarrassingly high noise in his throat as Alex wrapped his fingers around his length. He gave him a few light strokes, lowered his mouth to lick up his shaft, then backed off completely. 

“Fuck, I love you like this,” Alex said. Didn’t touch him, just looked. “Helpless. Needy. Trapped. Mine. I can’t tell you how badly I want you, all of you. Can’t wait til you let me ride you.” God, if that didn’t go straight to John’s dick. But he knew he didn’t want his first time with Alex like this. He wanted his hands free, wanted to be able to hold him close, wanted him to stay. 

“Or, you know…” Alex slid back down into laying next to John, touched his face with one hand, played sweetly with his cock with the other. “When you let me fuck you…”

John squeezed his eyes shut, his hips jolted, another broken sound escaping him. Alex snagged this like a loose thread on a sweater, launched into a diatribe. “Oh, you like that idea, huh? You’re such a cute little slut, and you don’t even know. For your first time, I’d lay you out just like this. Tie you down so you can’t stop me. I’d finger you so slow, so gentle, since it’s your first time. Want you ready for me.”

“Alex…”

“Might even get my tongue down there too, wanna taste your little virgin hole before I fucking destroy it. I’d fuck you on my fingers for a good while, nice and slow, let you get used to it. Wanna hear your beg for it before I give you my cock. I’d push your legs back…” He paused, let one hand cup the back of John’s knee. Teased him with the possibility of his words.

“God, papi, please…!”

“Yeah, like that, wanna hear you cry for it. Once I’m fucking you, you won’t want anything else, just dick. Just _my_ dick.”

In his mind, John could see it so clearly. Alex parting him lovingly, slipping one, then two fingers inside. Working him open with care and finesse. He wondered what it might feel like, to have something inside him, to have Alex that close to him. To have him gazing down at him, staring at him like he was the only one in the world. Alex continued to talk filthy in his ear, finally gripped him, jacked him off in a consistent, steady pattern. 

“Do you even know what you do to people? To me? I go home after being with you, so blissed out and of course even Lafayette notices. He asks me, all the time, about what we do. Wants to hear all about what you do, how you are. He can see how desperate you make me, how just thinking about you makes me hard. He’s so jealous of this power you have over me, and I’d be lying to you if I said he wasn’t curious… about… you…”

John’s heart leapt into his throat, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe. That golden glow of feeling captured suddenly twisted into something suffocating. He needed Alex to stop, to not crowd their bed with just the mention of Lafayette. It was too big, too scary, too raw. Too much. Alex misinterpreted his shocked silence for interest, so he continued. “Right, you like that, you whore? Like the idea of us talking about you, thinking about you? Maybe I should have invited him, that would have been a nice birthday present, hmm? Let him get a taste of your little virgin hole? If I’m your first, after I get you all wet and messy, he can be next? Not sure if you can take him, though, you’re so small and tight, he’s so big…”

“Red, red!” John cried out. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, why would Alex tell him that, why would he even suggest it? He had to roll away, he had to get away, they weren’t, it wasn’t…

Alex paused, as if surprised. Reached up and unsnapped the cuffs, his mouth popping open in shock as John squirmed away from him, curled into a ball. Felt Alex’s hand on his shoulder, which he promptly shrugged off. 

“Jack, sweetie? What’s up, what can I do?”

John’s mind raced, his heart pounded, he clutched the pillow. He didn’t want to cry, this was already so embarrassing, what with Alex digging into the darkest corners of his own mind, unearthing his most secret desires and laying them bare in the harsh light of his bedroom, out for everyone to see. Why would Alex even suggest Lafayette’s involvement? Did he know how he felt about Laf? How could Alex know when John himself still didn’t even... _really_ understand? Was he making fun of him? Was it obvious? Did he look too hard, too long? 

“Talk to me,” Alex said softly. 

John looked up to him, eyes shiny with tears on the verge of being shed, bit his lip. The absolute downpour of feelings--fear, lust, worry, anxiety, shame--threatened to swallow him whole. “You can’t just… you can’t bring him up like that. He isn’t some sort of sex toy, he’s my friend... And your boyfriend! And I don’t even know if I am ok with stuff like that… About him anyway…” 

Alex tilted his head, surveyed John with curiosity. “Sorry, I thought... I mean, I figured... With that time you guys kissed, maybe... I dunno, it was just fantasy, I was just talking.” His voice was apologetic, and laced with traces of guilt and embarrassment at the fact that he might have put his own wants above John’s feelings. 

The tears spilled. John got under the blanket, felt himself going soft. Kept his back to Alex. Forced himself to cry silently. Not even sure what was bothering him so much. The thought of Lafayette, touching him, being with him. It was wildly appealing, the pull of the attraction so magnetic that John felt no choice but to stamp it down, ignore it. Because if he wanted Lafayette, what did that mean for him and Alex? He liked Alex, was dangling off the precipice of actually falling completely in love with him. And it was hard enough knowing he’d have to share him with Lafayette. What would it be like to also have to share Lafayette? Would they shut him out more or possibly grow bored of him? So adding in John’s budding feelings, the possibility of being interested in Laf, just complicated everything. More than it was. More than it needed be. Nope, it was best to refuse to water that sapling, plunge it back into the dark back where it belonged. 

“Jack? Do you want me to go? I can leave.”

“No!” John said faster and louder than he meant, startling Alex. “No, please don’t leave, please don’t leave me alone.” Gripped his wrist tightly, as if he was afraid Alex would vanish in a quick second. The contact caused the floodgates to break open and John sat there, tears spilling down his cheeks, his face bright red with frustration as he cried. For a long time, Alex lay there, afraid to move while John sobbed. But it seemed that after awhile he couldn’t help it and he crouched down to John, wrapped an arm in comfort around him.

“This ok? Can I hold you?” 

Through his tears, John nodded, even leaned into Alex a little bit. He was surprised to find how much easier it was to cry in his boyfriend’s arms, the sobs slowly turn into dry heaves that rocked his body. It was easy to let himself shrink against him, laid like that until his tears fizzled out, and he was left shivering and sniffling. 

“Here,” said Alex, hooked his foot under the comforter so he could pull it over both of them. John still wouldn’t look at him. Laid in an empty silence. Watched the digital clock on his nightstand. As the numbers drew closer to midnight, he finally found his voice. 

“Don’t you have to leave.” His voice flat. A statement, not a question.

“Not tonight, baby boy. Laf--” (John flinched.) “--knows I’m staying over.”

John gulped some air, buried his face in his pillow. Wished ardently his own fickle heart hadn’t ruined the night, that he could have enjoyed the incredible gift of Alex all to himself just this once. 

***

He woke up once in the middle of the night. Alex wrapped around him like ivy. A fresh glass of water on his night stand, and his favorite blanket--the afghan his mom crocheted for him as a baby--draped over the both of them. In his own, circular, quiet way, Alex knew how to take care of him.


	12. HALLOWEEN

**HALLOWEEN**

The next few days were a bit odd for John as he began to slowly pull back from the couple, allowing himself space from Alex and Lafayette. He felt as if the night of his birthday had caused a significant shift within their relationship, and that he needed to take some time for himself. Even if that time was spent thinking almost non stop about Lafayette and Alex.

Yet, when Alex shot him a text Halloween night, asking where he was, if he was stopping by before Herc’s party, John sighed and like a dog on a short leash, he headed to Alex’s apartment without question.

“Aw, where’s your costume?” Lafayette teased as he opened the door. He himself was wearing a black jacket over a white shirt, brown pants, tall black boots and a toy gun holstered across his hip and thigh. His hair was down and he smiled all big at John in the doorway. 

“What are you supposed to be? A cowboy? You need a hat.”

Lafayette laughed. “No, silly. I am Han Solo!” He pulled his toy gun out of his holster, pointed it at John. “From Empire Strikes Back?”

John frowned. “If you say so.”

“And what are you?” 

John looked down at his clothes. A nondescript gray sweater and jeans. “I guess I didn’t realize this was a costume party?”

The look on Lafayette’s face was equal parts horrified and confused. “It is Halloween John Laurens, what do you mean you did not think it would be a costume party?! Alexander, get out here, your boyfriend needs help!” He grabbed John and dragged him to their couch, pushing him down like a rag doll. John let him, mumbling under his breath about how he wasn’t 12 anymore.

“What now?” Alex grumbled, emerging from the bedroom. John’s eyes widened in shock at Alex’s ensemble. 

“Jesus Alex! What the actual--!!”

“You like?” Alex said, smiling coquettishly. Did a little spin so John could see from every angle. “Gender bending classic characters is so in right now!”

John had no words. Alex was bare chested, a gold belt slung around his waist, with two flimsy pieces of burgundy fabric, one in the front and the other in the back, offering a tantalizing peek of his bare thigh. Boots in sage suede, a gold arm band, and his hair braided over his shoulder completed the look. John was concerned his eyes were going to fall out of his head. 

“John did not know he needed a costume,” Laf whined. “Do we have something extra he can wear?”

“Yeah, come back John, you can look in the costume box.”

“You guys have a costume box?” John asked, finally finding his voice. Decided that commenting on Alex’s outfit was out of the question, that he just needed to roll with it, but he kept sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye. Alex just looked so... Good. 

“We take Halloween very seriously in this household,” Alex said in a solemn voice. “Anyway, I need someone’s help with the collar, I can’t get it to snap without seeing it.”

“Collar?” John said. Worried he might actually faint. “You’re wearing a collar?”

Alex looked at him like he was crazy. “Uh, yeah. She had one in the movie?”

As if he had been holding it back, Lafayette burst out laughing behind them. Spoke to Alex in giggly French, had to support himself on the door frame because he was laughing so hard. 

“What?” John asked, suddenly self conscious. “What’s he saying?” 

Alex just rolled his eyes. “Nothing of note. Here, let’s find you something.” He crouched to rummage through the plastic tote that contained their costumes. “Any ideas?”

“Nothing... Nothing revealing!” John said as Alex held up what looked like a cheerleader’s uniform. “I don’t want to change. Do you have something I can just add to what I’m wearing now? Something simple? Nothing crazy.”

The jewelry Alex wore jingled as he peered up at John. “Cat ears?” he suggested, holding the black headband up. 

“Yeah, ok.” John shrugged, let Alex come to him. He undid John’s ponytail, fluffed his hair up so it spilled across his shoulders. Slid the kitty ears into place. 

“I think we have a matching tail?” Alex said returning to the box.

“Oh, and the collar! With the bell!” Lafayette added, still snorting. 

Alex held up both items, and John glared. “I am _not_ wearing a collar!” he snapped. “Nor a tail. The ears are fine.”

The smirks on both Alex and Laf’s faces were infuriating. 

“May I at least draw on some whiskers?” Lafayette offered. “It will be very cute.”

“Fine. Just. Quick.”

“My collar first!” Alex cut in, his voice petulant. Point to the piece lying on the bathroom counter. Even though it was just a cheap piece of costume jewelry, more like a choker in fake leather, with a plastic length of chain dangling from it, watching Lafayette buckle it into place was... Unsettling? Confusing? Arousing? John didn’t know. All he really knew was that there seemed to be a practiced ritual to it, with Laf’s fingers so deft and gentle while Alex considered himself in the mirror. John averted his eyes, studied his hands.

“There,” Lafayette said. Planted a quick kiss on Alex’s temple. “Finish your makeup while I help John.” Alex smiled at him in the mirror, rummaged in a draw for mascara while Lafayette fished out a black eye liner pencil. Turned to John, patted the counter, indicating him to sit. John hoisted himself up, trying not to jump when Lafayette set his hands on his waist in assistance. John actually had to splay his legs to let Lafayette close enough, and he brandished the pencil like a weapon. 

Silence from all three while Alex lined his own eyes in shimmery copper. Laf drew three whiskers on each of John’s cheeks, then drew and colored in a black oval on the tip of John’s nose. “C’est un chaton très mignon,” Lafayette said quietly, chucked him under the chin. John’s heart fluttered, and he attempted to ignore how close Laf was to him, how he could smell his toothpaste and his aftershave, he was close enough to count his eyelashes, to study the exact shape of his lips. Said lips curled into a pretty smile and he backed off so John could hop off the counter. Alex was finally ready to go.

***

Though John had hung out with Hercules over the months, he hadn’t been to his place yet. Alex assured him in the cab ride over that Herc threw the “most bomb” parties and shit was about to get “turnt up.” John rolled his eyes, but sipped from the flask that Lafayette offered him nonetheless. The burn of some sort of fruity flavored vodka, but John gulped it just the same, hoping it would steady his nerves. It was so hard to think with Alex draped across both him and Lafayette, so hard to not think back on just a few nights prior, the suggestions Alex made involving the three of them.

Herc’s apartment had a big open living space. People were filling up solo cups from a keg, and Peggy was playing bartender, dressed as Alice in Wonderland, her petticoats swishing as she offered John a cocktail she called “Witches’ Brew.” It was fruity and sweet, and John downed two without thinking. Guests were lounging, eating, a few dancing as music thumped from the stereo, and everyone was drinking copiously. 

It seemed like everyone Alex knew was there, and he flitted around the party, John on his arm, introducing him to people. Angelica was there with her husband, dressed as Morticia and Gomez Addams. She clutched Alex in a hug, said in a conspiratorial voice “I gotta hold of some molly if you guys are interested.”

“What?” Alex said, shocked. “Angelica, you’re a mother now!”

She laughed, tossed her hair back. “Aww, come on. Baby’s with the grandparents for the night, we got a hotel in midtown. Let’s have some fun! Like old times!”

“I’m good, thanks,” Alex said. “I don’t really need anything to amp up my sex drive at the moment,” which made John choke on his mouthful of beer. 

Eliza sat in Herc’s lap. She was the Red Queen to Peggy’s Alice, managing to still look quite adorable despite the revealing cut of her costume. Herc had made his own costume, his own interpretation of Thor. Had discarded his foam hammer so he could wrap his arms around Eliza’s waist. 

“I didn’t know they were a thing,” John whispered after they greeted the pair. Headed back to the bar to refill their cups. 

“It’s off and on,” Alex said, sounding slightly bitter. “Eliza... gets bored easily.”

They had lost sight of Lafayette, so Alex pulled John onto the dance floor. “I’m praying Lafayette didn’t take Angelica up on that offer!” he said in his ear, over the music. “The last thing I need is his ass hopped up ecstasy!” 

John laughed. Usually a comment like that might have sent him into a tailspin, but with the buzz of four plus drinks in his system and the enticing way Alex was pressing his hips against him, the image of Lafayette rolling on X was more hilarious than threatening. He realized he still had drink in his cup, so he sipped it precariously, trying to keep up with Alex’s grinding. Usually, John was a pretty good dancer, but the alcohol and the charged atmosphere rendered him awkward, so he let Alex lead. Let him appreciate the way his body moved. 

Alex hooked one arm back around John’s neck, pushed his ass back against John, rocked in tight, sensual movements. John let his free hand drift to Alex’s tummy, ran his hand over his soft skin, pulled him a little closer. He felt so good against him, so soft and sexy. Alex turned in John’s arms, clung to him, guided John’s hands to his hips. John tried to find it in himself to be embarrassed of his erection thickening in his jeans, which Alex had to have noticed from this new angle, but he was too drunk and too turned on to care. 

Then Alex’s mouth was on his ear, his face in his hair, frizzing from the heat of the crowded room. “Guess what I’m wearing under my costume,” he purred, nuzzling John’s neck. John’s fingers stroked the exposed skin of Alex’s hip. 

“Nothing?” John guessed. Touched Alex’s thigh as if to confirm.

“Wrong,” Alex whispered. Pressed himself closer to John. “Too cold to wear nothing. I got on this pretty red and black thong... with string sides…” John inhaled sharply at Alex’s words. “And... Since I’ve been so bad lately... Lafayette... Thought I should... Be plugged... For the night.” Alex guided one of John’s hands to his ass, let him feel over his clothing for the evidence. Made a little sound of pleasure when John dared to press, hoping the room was dark enough that no one would notice. 

“You’ve got a plug in?” John breathed. “In public?” His pulse accelerated. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“You are bad,” John said, all hushed. Spun Alex back around so he could grind against his ass, relishing the desperate little chirp that he made. “Fuck, you must be all wet and stretched to be able to take that plug,” John said, the buzz of the booze loosening his tongue, dampening his nerves. “Know how easy it would be to flip up your little skirt, fuck you right here, in front of all your friends?”

“Jack!” Alex said in surprise, squirmed in John’s arms. “Christ, baby, keep talking like that you can do anything you fucking want.”

“And what does dear Laurens want?” Lafayette had appeared out of nowhere, sidled up against the two of them. He smelled of tequila and his toy gun had been replaced by a miniature bottle of Jack Daniels in it holster. He swayed on his feet, smiling all curious.

“He’s being absolutely filthy,” Alex said, as if in awe. He shamelessly ground his ass into John’s erection, tossing Laf a smile that was dripping with suggestiveness. 

“Is that so?” Lafayette regarded John, who blushed under the scrutiny. 

“Here,” Alex hiccuped. “M’gonna go get us some more drinks. Watch him for me?” He sort of spun John into Laf’s arms. John giggled, his cat ears askew. 

“I will take good care of him, my love. Go fetch us another round, yes?”

Alex sauntered off, leaving Lafayette to wrap his arms around John and pull him to his chest. He leaned down to press his lips to John’s ear, whispering roughly. “We have quite a dirty boy on our hands?” 

John shivered at the usage of the word ‘our’ and the companionship it implied. He loved it, and suddenly he was turned around in Lafayette’s arms, so that the man could grind into his front. Lafayette was so tall compared to him, he barely came to up to his chin. John had to tilt his head back to look at him. “I can’t believe how I used to be jealous of you!” John said, his voice thick. His arms wrapped around Laf’s neck, giggling as they swayed to the music.

Lafayette smiled, squeezed John’s upper arms affectionately. “No need for jealousy, little one. Alexander is crazy for you.”

“I’m not little,” John huffed. 

“Oui, little. Small, but strong.”

John laughed. “Fine ok, maybe compared to you I’m small. But like, that’s why I was always so jealous. Look at you and then look at me? Like, you’re so big and tall, and you’re so gorgeous, and then... Then look at me. Compared to you.” John wished Alex was back with his drink so he could at least have something to stop him from babbling. 

“I have looked at you,” Lafayette said quiet, his voice rough. “I have looked at you quite a lot.” 

“Well, good for you because I can’t figure out what would make Alex even interested in someone like me when he’s got you.” John rested his forehead on Laf’s chest, took a few steadying breaths. Liked how he felt one of Lafayette’s hands come up to rub at his back, between his shoulder blades. He shuffled closer, was suddenly surprised to feel... Something... Against his hip. John thought for a moment it was the gun holster, but he nudged up against Laf some more. And nope, it definitely was not his holster. 

“Laf?” John breathed. Laf’s smile was the only answer he needed. 

Alex reappeared at the exact moment. Held three bottles of beer, started to offer one to John, but he knocked it away and dove for a kiss instead. “Take me home,” John whined into his mouth. “Both of you, take me home, I’m ready. Want you to fuck me, want you both.”

The eye contact Alex and Laf made was loaded. “Jack?” Alex asked as John melted into his arms but grabbed at Laf’s hand, trying to pull him into the hug. 

“Please,” John begged. Humped at Alex’s leg, pulled at his costume. “Please.”

“Christ,” Alex cursed, setting the beers on the nearest surface. “He’s blasted.” 

“It appears so,” Lafayette confirmed, straightening and taking his hands off of John. 

“Baby boy, sweetie?” Alex said, trying to peel John off of him. He had glued himself to his front, fixed his mouth on Alex’s neck. “We’re gonna take you back to your place, ok? Get you into bed.”

“Nooo…” He protested. “Wanna go to your place.”

“Not tonight, little one,” Lafayette said firmly. “Alexander, grab our coats, come.” Lafayette actually picked John up, bridal style. John whooped with laughter, snuggled against him.

“Soooo strong,” he gushed. Lafayette rolled his eyes but smiled indulgently. Alex trailed after them, looking put out. 

“What is it, mon chou?” Laf asked as they waited for a cab. Laf refused to put John down, continued to cradle him. He was talking quietly and laughing to himself. 

“Nothing, just…” Alex made a desperate little face. “I want this so bad. Not like this, though. I’m just... Frustrated.”

“Shhh,” Laf said, his soothing meant for both of them. “None of us want it like this. Come, we will get him home safe, yes?” He added something in French, something that made Alex grin. 

The cab ride continued to test Alex’s resolve, as John crawled into his lap, made out with him sloppily. Put his lips to Alex’s ear, spoke filthy in Spanish. Told him how bad he wanted him, how he wanted him in his ass, all night, him and Lafayette. 

“Not tonight, Jack,” Alex said. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” John pouted. “Feel fine.”

Dragging John to his apartment took both of them. He was stronger than his size suggested, and was hellbent on being difficult. When they got him upstairs, Laf went to the bathroom to fetch something while Alex tried to wrestle him into his sleeping clothes. John darted away, sprawled out on the bed in just his boxer briefs and the kitty ears.

“Meeeow,” he said enticingly, giggled and stretched. “C’mere, baby girl, c’mon,” he implored. Overcome with laughter.

Laf emerged from the bathroom, holding the washcloth.

“What’s that for?” Alex asked, holding John’s t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“Want to get the makeup off his face,” Laf said smoothly. Advanced on where John was splayed on the bed, watching them both intently. “His sheets are very nice, would hate for the makeup to stain them.”

Laf went and sat on the edge of the bed. Let John come to him, and he scrubbed his face clean with care. The act was soothing, and some of the fight sapped out of John. Alex managed to coax him into his clothes, and tucked him into his bed.

“You guys aren’t staying?” John asked in a voice so tiny it broke Alex’s heart. 

“No honey. Laf’s with me and…”

“So? Three’s a party!” John said, but Alex shushed him. 

“We’re gonna go, but I got you some water and some Advil, ok? Text me in the morning?”

John huffed in frustration, blew a curl out of his face. “Fine. Leave me. You don’t even like me.”

“It’s not that baby. You know it’s not.”

There was no answer. John just put his face in his pillow and groaned loudly. 

Alex kissed his shoulder, gave Laf a look, and they left. John was snoring before they even shut the door behind them.

***

Two things when John woke the next morning, way past his normal wake up time of 8:30. First, the pounding pain in his skull. Second, the bright hot flash of shame as snippets of the night before rushed back to him. 

“Fuck,” he said softly, sitting up. Seeing the kitty ears and the glass of water on his nightstand confirmed the worst, that the previous evening had not been a nightmare, but rather an outpouring of the worst kind. John cringed, actually cringed, when he thought about how he clinged to Lafayette, what he said to Alex on the dance floor, the way he threw himself at the both of them. Unsure how to proceed, he did when he knew he could at the moment. Sipped the water, took some Advil. Glanced at his phone. Saw a barrage of text messages from Alex sprinkled with a few from Laf. Instead of reading them, he shut his phone off.

There was nothing he felt he could do or say to make this situation better. John laid in bed for what felt like hours, just staring at the ceiling. Rather than the usual spinning of thoughts when John got anxious, it was like he was past anxiety and instead just… Empty. Confused. Mortified. 

The rest of the day passed in a gray blur. It was filled with the things John didn’t do: he didn’t go into work or even pull out his latest project; he didn’t take a shower; he didn’t put on real clothes; he didn’t eat anything but junk food; and most of all he didn’t speak to Alexander or Lafayette. He kept his phone stubbornly turned off, left it face down on his nightstand. 

Around midnight, after Netflix had asked him if he was still indeed watching ‘Friends’ for the third time, he dragged himself out of his blanket cocoon, his empty box of Cheez-Its crashing to the floor. The past day had been empty, and he had done everything to avoid thinking about the previous night. If the thought even passed his mind, it was like poking an open wound. He had no clue how to begin the damage control, but was aware that before he could approach Alex, he had to untangle his own feelings on the matter. And that was the hardest part. How could he figure out what he felt? Alex was one of the best things that had even happened to him, and loving him wasn’t difficult. What was difficult was sorting out how he felt about Lafayette, and what that meant for him and Alex. 

But it was much easier to draw himself a bath, sink below the water line, and blank his mind. It was much easier to keep his phone off. It was much easier to pull out his Kindle and start rereading _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ for what had to be the fifteenth time. It was much easier to fall asleep around two in the morning and sleep past noon.

It was Friday, and John remembered he had a date with Alex that night. Rubbing his temples, he turned on his phone. Refused to actually read the 23 text messages from Alex. Instead, he shot off a quick text that he wasn’t feeling well, they’d have to cancel, and he turned off his phone as soon as it was delivered, despite seeing the gray bubbles to indicate Alex was replying almost instantly. 

Another gray day. Another day spent refusing to think. At least he pulled out his latest project. Didn’t get much done beyond staring at it, but that was a start. 

Around six-thirty, an incessant pounding at his door. John paused Netflix, went to look through the peephole. 

“Jack?” Alex called through the floor. “Jack, I know you’re home! Let me in, we need to talk.”

Swallowing, steeling himself, John opened the door. The first thing he noticed was that Alex looked gorgeous. Sure, the circles under his eyes were darker than normal, but he was wearing a pair of soft khakis and a deep red v-neck. His hair was down, and he held a bag of takeout food, what looked like Thai.

“You said you weren’t feeling well, so I brought dinner to you?” Alex offered, holding the bag up.

“Thanks,” John grunted. Stepped out of the way so Alex could enter the apartment. He went straight to the table, began unpacking the bag. 

“I got you pad thai and panang curry, wasn’t sure which one you’d want…” 

John shrugged, stared at the table. Refused to meet Alex’s eyes. 

“Which one you want, baby?”

“I’m not really hungry,” John said softly. Continued his study of the table. 

There was a beat of silence. Then: “Goddamn it, John!” Alex suddenly said sharply. He didn’t raise his voice, but the tone revealed his frustration. “Are we going to talk about this, or is it just going to be something we bury like every fucking thing that happens?”

“What are you talking about?” John stammered, finally looking up at Alex. Inexplicably, Alex was still unloading the food, though he had his eyes fixed on John. 

“The party, Jack! And before that, your birthday. And the time you two kissed. It’s like… Nevermind.”

“It’s like what Alex?” 

“Laf comes up, or you guys connect, and then you freak the fuck out and we don’t talk about it.”

“I... I… What?”

“And frankly, you are sending him mixed signals. It’s starting to fuck with his head, and... and that’s not cool, John.”

“I’m fucking with his head?” John stammered. “What about my head? My feelings?”

“Well, Jack, it’s kind of hard to anticipate how it affects your feelings when none of us, including you, know what they are!”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Exactly how it sounds. You’re always so confused about how you feel, I can’t keep up. One minute, you’re kissing my boyfriend. Then, I bring him up and you’re crying. The next day, you’re drunk and asking him to fuck you! It makes no damn sense. I want to give you whatever you want, but I can’t if it’s unclear what it is!”

John had no idea what to say. “But...” was all he could get out. 

“And honestly, it’s hurting both of us. Lafayette is my boyfriend, and I can’t stand by and watch you continue to mess with him like this.”

“You think I’m doing it on purpose?” John finally gritted out. 

“No, but you’re being reckless. And kind of stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“Yeah, I said it. Because if you opened your damn eyes and thought about it for two seconds, you could figure out what is obvious to the rest of us.”

John shoved the plate of food Alex set in front of him away, folded his arms. “What gives you the right to come in here and start attacking me like this? Alex, it was a night of drinking, ok? I said some stupid shit, can we just drop it?” 

“So why have you been ignoring our texts the last few days?”

“I told you, I wasn’t feeling well, and I’ve been busy.”

Alex snorted, glanced around the loft, taking in the mess. “Busy. Sure.”

There was silence. Alex picked at his food. John refused to look at him.

“How do I make this right?” John finally said, quietly. “I can apologize to Lafayette.”

“And what, we just ignore this too? You say sorry, and it goes away?”

 

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Alex. Like I said, I drank too much.”

Alex let out an exasperated sigh, so forceful it fluttered his hair. “I’m done here, John. I can’t do this anymore. I care about you so much, and I want you all in. When you’re ready to be honest with yourself and talk to me for real, you know where to find me.”

John watched with his mouth popped open, watched Alex, the first man in a long time he cared so deeply about, gather his bag and his jacket and get ready to walk out of his life. 

And he did nothing but watch and wait for it to happen.

***

The next week was one of the worst for John in recent memory. He operated in a zombie like state of denial, like it was winter in every part of his brain. He dragged himself to his office, but found himself unable to work on his current project, spent more hours staring at his monitor than anything else. Food wise nothing appealed to him. His swims were drudgery, and often he found himself doing nothing more than floating mid-lane, forgetting what stroke or lap he was working on.


	13. THURSDAY

THURSDAY

It had been a week. The ache in his heart was getting worse, and John decided the only way out was through. He had seen what his life was without Alex and Lafayette, and he didn’t want to keep it up. He shot a text to Alex, crossed his fingers.

 **John Laurens** : Hey. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Hi sweetie. I’ve missed you. 

**John Laurens** : Me too. Dinner tonight? Movie? I’ll cook anything you want. :)

 **Alex Hamilton** : Damn it babe, that sounds great. But it’s our anniversary, we got plans. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Rain check?

 **Alex Hamilton** : Tomorrow night?

 **John Laurens** : Oh, yeah. Sure. See you then

This. This was why John balked. He’d always be the outside, waiting for Alex. Second. There would always be something he shared with Lafayette that he was not part of. 

But was that really all there was? John actually froze in his kitchen, his phone in his hand, staring at it blankly. Was this only about Alex? 

There was no denying that John and Lafayette held a certain chemistry. There was an obvious attraction there, as well as a deep-seated friendship. Along with the camaraderie that came from the fact that they both loved Alex, a common thread that would always connect them. But when he thought on the three of them, together, John knew he had never felt more comfortable with two people in his entire life. Had John missed something? Had his feelings about Lafayette gotten tangled and cross-wired with how he felt about Alex? How did he even feel about Laf? That was the confusing part, the open wound that he kept avoiding, that refused to heal. 

So he didn’t. He sat down and slowly began unpacking his feelings concerning Lafayette. There was so much there, and while it scared him it also excited him a bit. For the first time he allowed his fantasies of Alex and Lafayette to actually come to light, both in and out of the bedroom. The three of them, lingering over breakfast, sharing the Sunday paper. Folding laundry together. Sitting across from one another in a candlelit restaurant. Reimaging his birthday outing, not just pulling Alex to his favorite installations in MoMA, but showing Laf his favorite paintings. Strolling Central Park. Complaining to the both of them next time his father called. Soothing Alex through the next thunderstorm. Laughing over Lafayette’s most recent ridiculous story about work while they shared a bottle of wine. A life. With the three of them. It was almost as if John’s entire existence had been leading to this point and he was staring down the path of the rest of his life. A happy one. 

Then why was he so fucking scared? 

As was usual, his brain supplied all the counterexamples to his happy visions. Rejection. Being shut out. Left alone. Abandoned. The idea of telling Lafayette and Alex about this was ridiculous--they would laugh him right out of the room. He could practically hear Lafayette sneering at him, telling him he was out of his mind to even consider himself in the same league as him. Or Alex, rolling his eyes at him. _‘And where exactly do you fit in?’_ he would say.

Or worse, what if they did take him in? Gave him a taste of that bright happiness, a part of their beautiful, private world, only to grow bored with him and eventually cast him out. How could recover from such a thing? How could his life be anything but gray after living among their color?

But then he thought of how Lafayette looked at him the night of the storm. Those warm brown eyes had locked on him, and inside of them had been a feeling he was unable to name at the time, to worried about his boyfriend. But now, a he replayed the scene in his head with careful eyes, he found that feeling. Love. Adoration. Enchantment. He knew in that moment that Lafayette wanted him, not only as a lover but as a partner. He had invited John into that moment, and John realized that it had not only been for Alex, but for all of them. They other two had already realized their awakening, and were waiting on John to simply catch up. 

“Stupid,” John cursed himself, in the quiet of his kitchen. “I’ve been so stupid.” All he had to was let them in. 

And suddenly, it was like he was alive. He felt like he had been underwater this entire time, senses dulled, and that now he was coming up out of the water, able to breath. His chest hurt, his eyes stinging with unshed tears, but he laughed at realized that he was indeed, ready for Lafayette. Ready for both of them. The three of them, together. 

But he couldn’t just stand there in his kitchen, laughing and smiling to himself with the realization. He had to do something, he had to tell them, he had to show them. He was pacing, plotting. Yes, it was Thursday, but tomorrow. No, he had an idea, but he had to text his sister Martha, of all people.

 **Jack** : Sis, quick question

 **Martha** : Shoot

 **Jack** : Do you have Aunt Esther’s fried chicken recipe 

**Martha** : Uh, yeah. I have them all. Why?

 **Martha** : That’s the use with caution recipe. That’s the engagement chicken recipe.

 **Martha** : I made that chicken and I swear David had a ring for me in less than a week

 **Martha** : I swear to god, Jack, you better fucking tell me why you need the recipe. Who’s the lucky dude?

 **Jack** : Will you chill? I just need it ok. I’ll tell you how it goes.

A few minutes pause, and then a photo of the recipe, written lovingly on a recipe card in Aunt Esther’s elegant script. Immediately, John was jotting down a shopping list. Thought back on summer evenings with his family, the hearty Southern meals his aunties and cousins cooked. John hated a lot about growing up in Charleston, but a large, well-fed family was not one of them. Fried chicken, hot, crisp and salty. Hand thrown biscuits brushed with honey and butter. Mashed potatoes topped with pools of dark brown gravy. Greens seasoned perfectly and studded with bacon. 

The path was clear. John was going to cook them this meal. Put every ounce of his devotion into each bite. Food that meant home. The perfect meeting of his past and their future.


	14. FRIDAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good Luck.

**FRIDAY**

John barely slept Thursday night he was so nervous and excited. He spent Friday morning shopping, finding the perfect chicken at the butcher’s, potatoes and collards at the farmer’s market, and even stopped at this amazing bakery on 8th to pick up a flourless chocolate cake. With any luck, they wouldn’t even make it to dessert… John blushed at the thought while he watched the lady behind the counter box up the cake, tie the box with red and white string. 

He wanted to arrive at Alex and Laf’s place before them. It was going to take a while to put together the meal correctly. Alex and Laf both worked on Friday, and so it would be such a nice surprise for them to come home, see the work he put in, the beautiful meal he cooked them. He’d set the table all nice, they’d walk in… _’What’s all this for?’_ Alex would ask, his eyes and smile wide. _’John Laurens, are you up to something?’_ Laf would add, that flirty lilt in his voice. The very thought filled John with a pleasant glow. To think, in just a few hours, if all went as planned, he could be in both of their arms!

Barely past noon. He made his way uptown, his arms full of groceries, the cake held aloft with precise, obsessive care. The doorman at Alex’s building offered him a kind smile of recognition, which gave him an extra jab of courage. Elevator ride, quiet and quick. Shifted back and forth on his feet, his nerves jangling with energy. Excitement. 

Thankfully, John had his own key. Gifted to him from Alex back in August, unceremoniously, but still weighty. Rearranged the grocery bags so he could get at his keys, found the the gold one on his carabiner, a slightly different shape than his others. Key in the door, knocked it open with his hip, cradling the cake box as well as he could. 

The apartment wasn’t empty.

The moment was so singular, so jarring, it was like time froze. John stood in disbelief, cake box in one hand, totes full of groceries in the other, his mouth popped open in shock at the scene before him.

Does time pass differently depending on who you are? There seemed to be a delay, as if the other two hadn’t registered the door open, him standing there, his gifts in hand, words of love ready on his lips. Instead, their own private world, one John had only caught glimpses of, like stumbling across a crack in the sidewalk that led to a chasm miles deep in the earth. 

No, they just continued. Lafayette sat gracefully on the edge of the couch, his usually comfortable and inviting posture abandoned for something more powerful. Like royalty on a throne, his feet planted steady on the floor. Alexander on his knees in front of him, wrists bound behind him. Both unabashedly naked from the waist down, Alex’s face buried in Laf’s lap. A fistfull of black hair. Movement, almost angry. Forceful. Tight, controlled movements, one steering the other. Like two pieces of a machine, moving in tandem with one another, sure and steady of their pairing. 

The worst was the words.

Lafayette spoke in a voice John had never heard before, a quiet, even cadence. Contained a hint of a tease. Taunting. “Such a good, sweet boy,” he said in that new voice. Unknown voice. “So lucky you belong to me, my pet. My--”

How fast does sound travel? The displacement of the air in a room? How long did John stand there, watching, witnessing? And why did it take so long for them to notice he was there?

In a shuffle of bodies, there was new movement. Alex pulling away, looking over his shoulder, his face and chest flushed. Lafayette scrambling for the nearest throw blanket, moving to cover himself. 

At some point in the longest moment of his life, John dropped the grocery totes. A thump as potatoes spilled out, rolled across the floor. The absurdity of it all, of their nudity, that secret way they fit together, and John with nothing to offer but armfuls of food. Then Alex spoke his name, surprise in a single syllable.

The spell was broken. 

John bolted.

Slammed the door shut behind him, despite hearing both voices calling after him. Their unit was in a high-rise, twenty-sixth floor. John ran down every flight of stairs, the echoing of his footfalls a matching staccato beat to his thundering heart. 

Dark fell so early in November. He could feel the sun getting ready to set, even though it wasn’t quite 12:30. Could see it in the slant of the light, the lengthening of the shadows, the color of the sky. John had no destination in mind, just the city as a place to get lost in, strangers to slip among. 

Felt his phone buzzing insistently in his pocket. Easy to ignore. Two blocks, three blocks, four. Simple. Nowhere to go. 

John found himself in a bar. The kind of folksy, dark corner spot open midday, spotted with day drinkers and the destitute. Himself. Realized with a start as he approached the bar he still held the cake box. Nonsense. Set it on the bar, signaled the bartender. She brought him the whisky he ordered, neat, double, didn’t flinch when he ordered a second. In the dark of the bar, he could think. The fear there was so high in his throat, it was hard to continue ignoring. He flushed hot with embarrassment, with the obvious, painful realization that there would never be room for him. Not with those two. The missing piece, the one John overlooked, slid into place. How Alex and Laf fit together, their secret, ingrained language that they spoke. Their private world, for two. One kept the other. Ownership, possession, things John never actually considered until he heard that voice. He shivered. 

_Six years_ , a tiny voice hissed in John’s head. _Six years they’ve been together and open. Yet it’s still just the two of them. What made you think you’re different? That you’d be invited in?_ Yes, there was something there, something everyone else was privy to. 

“Stupid,” John cursed himself, again. _I’ve been so fucking stupid._

***

Here’s what John didn’t know: How long he sat at that barstool. How many glasses of whiskey he tipped back. The amount of texts and missed calls   
on his phone. What time it was when he finally stumbled out into the sharp, cold night. What happened to the cake.

His phone was dead. The burn of whiskey behind his eyes, in the back of his throat. Sloshing in his stomach. He wasn’t ready to go home. His hands itched for a fight. Blood burning. The walk home brutal, cold and windy and confusing. The city no longer felt like home. 

John half wished for another drunk looking for a dust up, an agitated stranger to look at him the wrong way, say something slick. He wanted to punch, to feel the give of flesh under his fist. The city was quiet, though, and no one crossed his path in such away. He made it home without incident. Passed out fully clothed on his couch. Avoided his bed. Pillows still smelled like Alex’s shampoo. 

*** 

When John finally dared to plug in his phone the next day, he had dozens of texts, a string of missed calls and and a good six voice mails. He deleted the voicemails without listening. Scrolled through the texts without reading them. Alex must have been obsessively checking for his read receipts because almost instantly his typing bubbles appeared, even as John was entering his own message. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Please, baby boy, talk to me 

**Alex Hamilton** : I know you’re freaked out, but if we just talk. 

**John Laurens** : I need space. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this anymore. 

Immediately, Alex called him. John declined the call. 

**Alex Hamilton** : You’re not dumping me over text message. No fucking way, man. You gotta talk to me. 

**Alex Hamilton** : Sweetheart, please. Talk to me. I need you to talk to me. I care about you so much, wanna fight for this, for us. You’re fucking killing me with the silence, John. 

**Alex Hamilton** : You’re breaking my heart. 

John couldn’t help himself. His own heart wrenched, screamed out, then twisted into something ugly. Anger. At himself, his own cowardice. He lashed out.

**John Laurens** : Good thing you have Lafayette to put it back together for you then

**Alex Hamilton** : THAT’S what this is ABOUT?

**Alex Hamilton** : You’ve got to be fucking KIDDING ME

**Alex Hamilton** :I thought we were past this jealousy thing. 

**Alex Hamilton** : If you opened your goddamn eyes and looked around you’d fucking realize you GOT BOTH OF US HOOKED JOHN. You’re so fucking stubborn. You get too close then you shut us out. You’re just gonna walk away from both of us? From what we have? What me and you have? 

**Alex Hamilton** : Why?

**Alex Hamilton** : Do you really not get it? What we could have?

**John Laurens** : I g2g. 

With the sort of fury he knew was immature, he hurtled his phone across the living room, not even reacting when he heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass, the crack of his phone hitting something. Good. He hoped the thing was broken for good. Stuffed his face in a couch cushion and screamed until his throat was raw.

***

When John finally dragged himself off the couch, hours later, found his phone still somehow undamaged. Thumbed it off so he didn’t have to look at the constant stream of messages from Alex. It had knocked over a framed photo when it landed, the glass was everywhere. A picture from his childhood, with his brothers. Summer, sitting by the creek, fishing poles in hand. He went to pick up the larger chunks of glass, but one piece slipped in his hand, accidentally slicing the skin of his palm. Standing over the sink, watching the trickle of blood, pinked from water in the faucet, he could finally cry. 

***

As the week went on, Alex’s messages tapered off. The last one he sent, a few days before Thanksgiving, simply said “You know where to find us.”

In the silence, John’s own thoughts began to fester, to turn darker. He could see them in his head, cuddling on the couch. Alex would curl into Lafayette, make that adorable move where he would bury his head into Lafayette's chest. They would kiss in that soft emotional way people who loved each other did.

That night he slept on the bare mattress, sheets balled up in a corner, crumpled and forgotten.


	15. THANKSGIVING

**THANKSGIVING**

With trepidation and a slight sting of sticker shock, John booked a last minute flight home to Charleston for Thanksgiving. His next project didn’t really kick off until after the holiday season, and he figured, with some bitterness, there was nothing really for him in New York at the moment. The idea of wandering the city streets, draped in Christmas decorations, alone, deeply depressed him. 

At least at home his family would be a nice distraction. The Christmas tree and the roaring fireplace. His brothers, lanky and outgrowing their clothes, restless with boyhood energy. His sister and her fiance, bright with excitement. Father always had Thanksgiving catered, and in a small show of charity gave the hired help the day off to be with their families. At least there would be turkey. Father would watch the game in the media room, with Henry Jr. draped across the opposite sofa, Jemmy with his face in his Nintendo DS, while John could hang out at the wet bar with Martha and David, sneaking shots of tequila and chasing them with the expensive craft beers Father kept stocked. 

Home sounded good right now.

It was slightly jarring that Henry Jr. was old enough to drive, a thought John always forgot. To him, Henry Jr. was still a skinny legged ten year old, crying when their family dog, Scout, had to be put down. Surely not the tall, handsome senior in the driver’s seat of his brand new GMC Sierra Denali in cool silver. He tilted down his wayfarers, cocked a smile as he spotted John standing in the pick up lane at the airport, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. 

“Jacky!” he called, his voice deeper than John remembered. Scrambled out of the truck so he could collect John in a bear hug. When did his little brother get taller than him? He looked so much like their mother it made his heart hurt. Where John was an odd blend of both his parents, mom’s cheek bones and hair texture and face shape, his father’s coloring, freckles and light brown eyes, Henry Jr. was dark and rugged, his mother’s beauty translating into something wild and masculine on his features. John chuckled quietly to himself as he glanced at his brother while they turned onto the highway, thankful that he would never been in competition for female attention with his brother. 

“How’s the big city treating ya, Jack?” he asked, twiddling the steering wheel one handed, running his other hand through his hair. Checking the rearview obsessively. God, wasn’t being seventeen grand? John almost missed it. Thought for a moment he’d trade it all away to be seventeen again, nothing but energy and potential. Twenty-seven sucked. 

“It’s alright, I guess. Busy. Crowded. Expensive.”

“Bet shit actually happens there, right?”

John snorted at the way the profanity rolled off his brother’s tongue. Like he was still trying it on. 

The house was already crowded. John was squeezed into too many hugs to count, aunts, cousins. Jemmy gave him a one armed hug, Martha a bone-crushing bear hug, tugged on his ponytail. 

“Sir,” he said quietly, Father’s handshake firm. He chucked his chin in way of greeting.

“Son,” he returned. Eyed him in a tense moment. “What, they not have barbers in New York?” What could have been a good-natured teased sounded a little cold. 

“I think it looks good long,” Aunt Esther said from where she was mixing margaritas in a giant pitcher on the counter. “Very metro. Edgy.” 

Henry said something under his breath, accepted a drink from his sister without further comment. 

“I swear, Henry, you gotta loosen up.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Henry Jr. pitched. “Can I have a margarita?”

The group laughed and everything felt normal for a moment. John felt his heart thaw just a smidge.

***

There were too many people in the house to cook for, so they ordered pizza for dinner that night. Dinner was casual, and John contented himself to sit towards the corner of the family room, balancing a plate of pepperoni and black olive in his lap, listening to Martha bitch about wedding dress shopping to some of their cousins.

“It’s a fucking nightmare,” she lamented. “Nothing is in the right sizes, the sales girls bring you the opposite of what you asked for, everything is uncomfortable. It’s stupid.”

“Ohhh,” said Megan, one of their cousins. “Of course it sucks here, backwater shops. You should go to Kleinfeld in New York, or Lori’s in Atlanta.” 

“Call now, though,” another added. “Their appointments go fast.” 

“You live in New York, right John?” one of them shot at him. “You can show Marty the city. How fun!”

Martha gave him a look, a little searching. “Yeah, maybe,” she said. Then changed the subject.

Later, when the cousins and the aunts and the uncles went home, and it was just them and Henry, John felt like he could breathe. Martha’s fiance headed to bed a little early. Jemmy was in his room, too, and Henry Jr. took off to go hang out with friends. Martha and John sat on the couch in the den, splitting a bottle of wine. Chatted about nothing and had on some old episodes of Family Guy in the background. John felt good.

Henry wandered in, holding a glass of scotch. Still in his neat, pressed clothes despite the late hour. He cleared his throat, sat in the chair opposite the couch. Martha muted the TV.

“Dad,” she said. “I was just telling Jacky about the venue we looked at? That gorgeous resort out on Hilton Head?” 

“I thought we decided you were going to have the ceremony at St. Mary’s, reception at the country club here in town.”

Martha wrinkled her nose, sipped her wine. “I’ll take it into consideration.” Which was Martha’s way of saying, no fucking way.

“I heard ya’ll talking at dinner. About the dress. Now, I know it must be hard. Girl needs her mother for this sort of thing, must be hard... Without her.” He paused, gritted his jaw. “Your mother would be sick to think of you doing this alone. I think... A trip to New York... For a dress is a fine idea.” Took a gulp of scotch. “Jacky can go with you, offer his expertise.”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of dig?” John snapped. Clutched his wine glass. “Not all homos are wedding dress experts, Father,” he spat. Tried not to imagine how much fun Lafayette would probably have on such an excursion. 

“No, not a dig,” Henry said slowly, looking equally embarrassed and confused. “I just figured it would be a nice thing for you two.” 

John set his wine glass down, folded his arm, his mouth pinched in a frown. 

“Sure, ok. Yeah it could be fun, I guess.”

“Young man,” his father said, his voice now sharp. “No need for disrespect. I am just trying to help, trying to be involved.” 

John rolled his eyes. Martha nudged his knee with her foot. 

“Now, you’ve been mighty sullen this evening, everyone noticed. I need you to fix your attitude before tomorrow, young man. I won’t have your mood ruining Thanksgiving.” He drained the rest of his scotch, chuckled to himself. “What’s got you all caught up, anyway? Man trouble?” He laughed at his own little joke.

Next to him, Martha inhaled sharply. “Dad,” she admonished. John felt his shoulders actually tense. A drunken argument was not how he expected this evening to end.

“Like you’d wanna hear about it if there were,” he said all cold. 

Henry rolled his eyes. Decided it was best to cut off the conversation there. Bid them both goodnight, accepted a kiss on the cheek from his daughter, and retired for the evening. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jacky,” Martha laid into him as soon as Henry was upstairs. “He’s trying! Why’d you have to jump down his throat?”

“What else am I supposed to do with that?” he said back, equally waspish. 

“I don’t know, genius. Try talking to him?” Martha sighed, glaring at him. “He doesn’t know what to do here John, ok? None of us do. Mom isn’t here anymore and it is awful for him trying to figure this out. He misses her, more than anybody else. And fuck it if he isn’t trying. Now I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re going through, and I am sorry. But that is our dad, the last parent we have. And no, he may not be perfect, but he can’t get better if you won’t be there for him. Maybe next time take the olive branch instead of burning it.” 

Suddenly, the thought of trying to tell Henry Laurens about his love life, the tangled mess that was Alex and Lafayette, bubbled into his thoughts and the whole thing seemed so ridiculous, so absurd, John actually burst into a fit of laughter, the first time in what felt like weeks he’d actually laughed. He was doubled over, laughing so hard he was shaking. He couldn’t breathe. At some point, his laughter turned into tears. Sobbing. Full body crying. And like the laughter, they were unstoppable.

“You ok?” Martha asked, looking stricken. Patted him on the shoulder. 

“No,” John choked. Tried to swipe away the tears with the back of his hand, but the sight of the wetness, of how much there was, just made him cry harder. Like the dam finally broke. “I am not ok. Not at all.”

Martha let him cry for a few minutes until he got a hold of himself. He managed to sit up, hiccuping. He wiped his face and took a deep, biting breath, trying to regain his dignity.

“You wanna talk about it?” Her voice gentle, the absolute opposite of the stern tone from just moments ago. 

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe?”

She blinked. Poured them both another glass of wine. “ _Is_ it man trouble?”

“Yeah.” He barked a harsh, empty laugh. “Men trouble. Plural.”

“Oh, god, it’s not Francis again? Is he bothering you, I swear to god--” Martha’s fist balled up and John put his hand on her’s, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips.

“Put the pitchfork away, Marty. It’s not Francis.”

“Well then. What’s his name?”

“ _Their _names.” John blew a curl out of his face. “Alex. And Lafayette.”__

__“What kind of name is Lafayette?” She pronounced it with a weird inflection, it sounded so odd with her southern drawl. “He from New Orleans?”_ _

__“No. France,” John grunted. Sharing info about them suddenly felt horribly invasive, like he was giving away stuff that wasn’t his. Stuff he wanted to keep all to himself._ _

__“Just the two?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“So, what like, you seeing both of them? They find out about each other? You caught in the middle? A love triangle? Oh, did they fight over you? Did you say the wrong name in bed?”_ _

__“What? No!” John said, feeling scandalized. “It’s not like that at all, not at all. But like, ok. If I tell you, promise you won’t judge me?”_ _

__“Jacky,” Martha said softly. “You know I will judge you no matter what. I judge everyone.”_ _

__The fake sweetness in her voice made them both laugh, bolstered John._ _

__“So I met this guy. Alex. He works at this magazine I did a job for back in the spring. And... And he’s amazing.”_ _

__“Yeah?” Martha urged him. “Tell me about him.”_ _

__John smiled, a little sad. “Alex is... He’s incredible. He’s passionate. He’s a writer, and well educated. Loves talking about everything. And he’s got this energy, he’s so positive. Even though he’s had a hard life, he’s still just this... Little firecracker. I’ve never met anyone else who’s understood me so well. He gets me.”_ _

__“Dick game strong?” Martha asked, making John snort his mouthful of wine._ _

__“Don’t be vulgar,” he retorted._ _

__“Just wondering. So what about Lafayette?”_ _

__John sighed. “Ok, so this is kind of… The unusual thing. When I met Alex, and he was upfront with this... Lafayette is his boyfriend.”_ _

__“Jacky, you homewrecker!” she huffed, her hand over heart in mock indignation._ _

__“No, it’s not like that. See, they’re in an open relationship…”_ _

__“Oh, god, _hippies_. Or is it some weird sex thing?” _ _

__“That’s verbatim what I said. But no, it’s not... Just that. Like, Alex and I were actually dating. Boyfriends. For months.”_ _

__“So, is it like that sister wives show? You get him Mondays, Wednesdays and every other weekend?”_ _

__John shook his head. “It kind of started like that, but then I actually met Lafayette and we all hung out together. And like…”_ _

__“Oh I can hear it in your voice, Jacky. You got it bad. Tell me about Lafayette. You like him better than Alex?”_ _

__“No way! No! Ok, listen. So Lafayette is…”_ _

__“Dreamy?” She filled in. He gave her a look. “I told you, I can hear it in your voice. You sound... Smitten.”_ _

__“Did I sound like that when I talked about Alex?”_ _

__She considered. “No, not exactly. You sounded... Warm. Sure of yourself. You say Lafayette’s name and you sound like a schoolgirl with a crush. Now tell me about him.”_ _

__“So, ok, Alex is good looking. Really cute, great smile. Just fucking adorable. Lafayette is like alien gorgeous. That fucking cliche tall, dark and handsome was written about him. But he’s also like, incredibly genuine, and sweet. Funny. He has all these little quirks that make him so unique. Like, he’ll only call me by my full name. ‘John Laurens, can you pass me the remote? John Laurens, come watch this video!’ It’s really fucking endearing.”_ _

__“Ok. So it sounds like you’re in love with both of these dudes. And they’re already together. So what’s the issue?”_ _

__“Well, see, they’ve been a couple for years. And. I mean. I just...”_ _

__“You just what, Jacky?”_ _

__As fast he could, he told her everything else, while omitting some of the more intimate details. The storm. The pies. His birthday. Halloween. His plan with the chicken. How he walked in on them._ _

__“And I told him I needed space and haven’t... Really heard from them since,” he finished lamely._ _

__Martha was silent for a few moments, swirled her wine in her glass, eyes fixed on the liquid. “You make no sense, Jack. It’s not like them... Sleeping together... Was a secret. Why’d you freak?”_ _

__“It’s not the fact that they were having sex. It was how. It was so intimate, and how obvious it was that this was just something for the two of them. And how would I ever fit into there?”_ _

__“I swear to everything that is holy. Thank god you’re pretty, because you sure are brainless sometimes.”_ _

__“Marty--”_ _

__“Don’t ‘Marty’ me, John. It’s so fucking obvious, and you’re so damn stubborn. Listen, this Lafayette guy, he clearly likes you. Like a lot.”_ _

__“Then why didn’t they just tell me?”_ _

__“Your lack of emotional intelligence is astounding. Think about it. Maybe he didn’t want to step on Alex’s toes? Maybe he didn’t want to scare you off? They sent you all the signals, Jack! They’re waiting on you to make the first move, because they don’t want to overwhelm you. Shit, navigating one relationship is hard enough? But two new ones? That’s gotta be delicate. And did you stop to think that Lafayette probably backed off of you because what if something went wrong? What would that mean for you and Alex? No, it makes perfect sense. The ball’s been in your court the entire time, but you haven’t even been playing the game.”_ _

__John stared at her, open mouthed._ _

__“First of all, I’m not in love with Alex or Lafayette, I like them both just fine, and like, ok, so I am attracted to Laf, but I mean, everyone with eyes is, that’s nothing special.”_ _

__“Honey, you went gaga for the man calling you by your full name. Come on…”_ _

__“I’m going to bed,” John announced suddenly. Thinking about the two of them, how much he missed them, how happy he had been with them, fucking hurt. He had to stop. Now._ _

__“Ok,” Martha said, sensing the shift in John’s mood. “We’ll pick this back up tomorrow then. Operation win your boys back.”_ _

__“Not happening,” John said. Finished his wine, kissed Martha on the top of her head. Made his way to his childhood bedroom. Refused to think._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come look me up on tumblr: @likearootlesstree


	16. MONDAY

**MONDAY**

The rest of his visit passed fine enough; Thanksgiving Day was like any other holiday. Everyone on their best behavior, conversation and wine flowing freely. By the time Sunday hit, John was ready to be back in New York, to sleep somewhere aside from his childhood bedroom. During the flight back, he thought hard, thought about what he should do. What Martha said. Of course, he avoided another heart-to-heart with her the remainder of his visit, but caught her eye several times. They talked vaguely about her visiting in January for dress shopping. Despite the fact John knew he wouldn’t be any help, it would still be nice to spend time with her. Show her the city. The parts that still belonged to him.

This he knew: He wasn’t in love with Alex or Laf. Whatever emotions he had felt, the night of the fried chicken before everything went to hell, were just confusion. Chemistry. Attraction. Lust. And he’d fucking prove it, too. As soon as he landed, he had a plan.

Step one of the plan: Remove all reminders of Alex, and by extension, Lafayette, from his living space. He washed his sheets and pillow cases. Found a small box in one of his closets, tipped all artifacts from their relationship into it: The key to their apartment; the polaroid of the three of them from the fall festival on the fridge; a t-shirt of Lafayette’s he borrowed once and forgot to return; the red toothbrush Alex put in the cup in his bathroom next to his. John even went through his sketchbooks, ripped out every drawing he had done of either of them. He didn’t have the heart to toss them out, just laid them in the box with the rest. Reluctantly, he added the colored pencils Laf had gifted him. He could buy another set. 

Step two was the natural progression of step one: He hired someone to do a deep clean of the apartment. Of course, his biweekly cleaning people kept the place spotless, and he himself was a relatively neat person. Even though it was hyperbole, the symbolism of clearing any trace of Alex from his home seemed important. While they worked on his loft, he took himself out. Shopping. Splurged on a few new shirts, a sweater in bottle green cashmere, some soft twill pants, a pair of fitted jeans in black. 

Step three: He was going out. Sure, it was a Monday night, but there would be no shortage of men at the club looking for no-strings-attached sex. Because that’s what he needed; a night with a stranger. Someone else to touch him, to erase the last of Alex’s touches to his skin. Another face to replace his mental image of Lafayette. A new distraction, even if just for a night. 

It didn’t take long. Barely into his second drink when a tallish, slightly older gentleman caught his eye from across the bar. He was handsome enough. Squared jawline, dressed like he just stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue. Hair medium brown, styled expertly. A far cry from Alex’s alluring softness or Lafayette’s heart-stopping beauty. The stranger looked wholesome, boring, and safe. He lifted his eyebrow, tilted his chin at John. An invitation.

“I like your sweater,” he said, smirking as John slid into the barstool next to him. 

“Thanks,” John said. The bourbon in his blood made him bold. “I like your smile.” And it was true, he had nice teeth, pretty lips. He was cute, more or less. 

“I’m Marshall.” Offered his hand to shake. John was pleasantly surprised at his hands, soft and warm and large. 

They did the back and forth idle chatter for a few minutes, then Marshall was brushing the back of his hand, nudging his ankle with the toe of his expensive shoe. “Wanna get outta here?”

“Yeah,” John exhaled. “I really do.”

Marshall waited to kiss him until they were standing in his loft, their coats and shoes already off. The kiss was practiced, absent, average. Marshall wrapped one arm around his waist, tilted his chin up with his hand, still cold from outside. He was slightly taller than John, which was different. Not bad different. John kissed back with all the energy he could muster. There was a total lack of spark, like he was following directions on “how to kiss good” and it was technically meeting every expectation of that. Part your lips just so, fit your faces together, not too much tongue, matching the same intensity.

It was ok.

John wanted to feel something electric, something magnetic. He pushed himself into Marshall, into the kiss. Ran his hands up the back of his shirt, feeling the cut of his muscles. Kissed him a little harder. 

“Eager, are we?” Marshall said, laughing. He pulled away to look at John. “God, you’re pretty,” he said. Ran a thumb over John’s features. He didn’t like it. “Couch?” he suggested, flicking his eyes over.

“Bed,” John countered. Marshall’s eyes lit up, and he followed John over. They sat at the foot of the bed, kissed some more. Pulled his sweater off. With his chest bare, John flopped back on the bed, spread his arms. Marginally enjoyed Marshall looming over him, touching his chest and stomach with an almost ticklish lightness. The look on his face was unreadable. It didn’t matter. 

He went for John’s fly. “Got spots on your dick too?” he teased, and John actually winced. Not as badly as he winced when Marshall touched him. It was... Painfully awkward. His body wasn’t really responding, not even as Marshall took him in hand, gave a few good squeezes, worked at him. John shut his eyes, tried to relax, tried to let his mind flit to images that aroused him. Instead, nothing but Alex, his voice, his face, his taste, his smell. 

John sat up quickly. “Sorry,” he stammered, indicated his still flaccid penis. “Just nervous, I guess.”

“First time?” Marshall said, wary. 

“No, I just... I just got out of a relationship. And uh.”

“Ah.” Marshall withdrew his hand. Pinched John’s nipples a few times, which honestly did nothing for him. When John didn’t really respond, he kind of shrugged. “Can I still fuck you?”

John felt the blood drain from his face. Suddenly, the thought of this man, this stranger parting him, opening him, inside of him was so repugnant, so distasteful John’s skin actually crawled. 

“Sorry,” John repeated. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Quickly, something ugly emerged from Marshall. He sat up, buttoned his shirt, his face sour. “Cocktease,” he spat. Smoothed his hair, went off to find his coat. Said nothing else. Slammed the door on his way out. 

John took a shower, stood under the water until it turned cold.


	17. DECEMBER

DECEMBER

A month went by and John barely knew what day of the week it was. It snowed a few times, nothing particularly interesting. The city still warm enough that it just turned to slush in the streets. Some days John stayed in bed, thumbed through books he later wouldn’t recall reading. Watched endless amounts Netflix and daytime TV. He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that it was the holidays, that he should be shopping for gifts. One day in a fit of energy managed to find stuff for his whole list--Father, Martha, Jemmy, and Henry Jr on Amazon. Had it shipped directly to the house, sent a text to Henry Jr. to put the shit under the tree. Done.

On days he managed to drag himself from the apartment, he wandered the city without purpose or destination. Erratic and restless. Stumbled upon shops he had never noticed before, spent hours ambling through their contents. Bought nothing, just looked. Wiled away the daylight. 

If he was really purposeful, he made it to the gym. Of course, that was dangerous, because once in the water, time completely evaporated. He could swim laps for hours, mindless freestyle, his body going through the motions without his brain’s assistance, and John’s thoughts could just... Flit. 

Everyday was a cruel game. How long could he go without thinking about them? But the moment he realized it had been a half hour, an hour, two hours, just noting that brought them back to the forefront of his mind. 

If John was honest with himself, they never left his thoughts. So much of the city had been tracked by them, every intersection, every block, every street. He swore he caught glimpses of them in the crowd, reflected in storefront windows, heard their laughter over their sounds of the street. Of course, like the coward he was, avoided the places he knew they frequented, the hangouts that had too many memories.

One afternoon, he found a coffee shop in Hell’s Kitchen that looked interesting. Inviting shelves of books and worn leather furniture. He ordered a latte, claimed an armchair in the corner. Pulled a worn copy of _The Shell Collector_ from the shelf, read one of the stories. Whales dying on a beach. A man loads their massive hearts into a pickup truck, buries them in the woods. 

“John?” a voice said, pulling his eyes off the book. “Oh good, it is you! I would have been so embarrassed!” Peggy Schuyler flopped down on the couch opposite him. She was a pretty and refreshing sight: berry lipstick, wavy hair chopped chin-length, a body-hugging sweater dress in sapphire blue wool, tall black boots. She crossed her legs, smiled at him. 

John sat up quickly, fumbled with the book, almost spilled his drink. “Hi,” he said, tried to keep his voice from shaking. “How are you?”

 

“About two seconds away from throwing this scalding hot chai into your fucking face, that’s what.” She winked, took a sip. But her voice was cold.

“I’m sorry, wha--”

“You’re lucky I like it so fucking much. The drink, not your face. I couldn’t care less about your dumb face since you apparently are too good for the likes of us anymore.”

John stared, his mouth open in shock. Was knocked into silence.

“Seriously, what the fuck is your problem? You just dropped us like a bad habit, I thought we were friends, and then it’s like POOF John Laurens who?”

“You guys are their friends, of course, I figured, after…”

“First, say their fucking names. That’s Alexander Hamilton and Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette to you, mister. Second, you guys aren’t parents getting a divorce, there’s not a custody battle. We’re adults, asshole, and at one point I thought you were cool, maybe would have wanted to still hang out or whatever, but your stuck up Southern ass just dipped before we had the chance! Also, I forget what point this is, but most importantly, you are absolutely, unequivocally stupid.” 

“I don’t have to listen to this.” John started to gather his bag. Peggy held up a perfectly manicured hand, flicked her wrist. 

“Yes you do. Sit. Finish your drink. Jesus. Is that like your thing? You don’t like something, don’t get something, so you run?”

A flash of something, distant anger, perhaps the sting of truth, sort of shivered through John. He sighed. 

“What is it you want to tell me?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me anything?”

“I already asked how you are.”

“Like I said. _Stupid._ ” She tapped her fingers on the wood of the side table next to the couch, the click of her nails emphatic. “Try again.”

John made a grunt of dissent. Sat back, crossed his arms over his chest. 

“How are they?”

“Names.”

“How are... Alex and Lafayette?”

Instantly, her voice and body language changed, her face lit up. “Oh, John they’re great! They had such a nice Thanksgiving, their holidays are going great, actually! Just last week they hosted a party for decorating their tree, it was so nice and festive! I haven’t seen them this cheerful in a while!”

John actually felt his heart constrict. “Really?” He asked, his voice hushed. “They’re doing well? They’re happy?”

There was a glint in Peggy’s eyes, a sort of understanding of something. “Ha! I knew it.”

“Knew what?” John asked. His fingers had turned white he was clutching his mug so hard. 

“You miss them. You aren’t over them.”

“Is that what everyone thinks?” John finally looked up, set his mug down. Gripped his knees to try and stop from shaking. “That I don’t miss them? That I’m over them? Because in case you haven’t inferred, I am not doing so well.” His voice shook, but he didn’t care. 

Peggy fidgeted in her seat. Straightened her dress, cleared her throat. “I’m lying actually,” she said quietly. Looked at John with her real face. “Alex and Laf... aren’t doing so well either.”

When John didn’t respond, she continued. “Honestly. I’m sorry, but... Ok, I don’t like seeing my friends upset. Which, I haven’t even really seen them since they basically went MIA after what... Happened. I know Eliza stopped over, has talked to Alex a few times. But it sounds like….” She trailed off. Noticed the pained look on John’s face. “Do you want to hear this? Because I can shut up.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok, again, you’re being stupid.” This time her voice was kinder. “You know exactly what you want. You’ve known for awhile. Just say it.” 

John buried his face in his hands. Clenched his eyes and lips shut, to stop from screaming, from vomiting, from laughing. “I can’t,” he admitted, his words muffled. 

“Why not?” Peggy urged. 

Maybe because Peggy was close enough to the situation to get it, but removed enough to be safe. Maybe because she wasn’t a stranger, but she also wasn’t his sister, who knew him down to his smallest flaws. Maybe it was just that point, that tipping point. Hearing that Alex and Laf were... Perhaps... Missing him? It broke something in him.

“Because I’m scared, ok? I’m fucking scared!” John could the swell in his throat, that burning in his sinuses, knew he was close to crying. “I’m terrified.”

Instead of recoiling, or patting him, or coddling him, Peggy did something unexpected. She laughed. “Terrified of what? Being happy?” 

“Of course not, it’s obvious? What if... What if… I mean things with Alex were... But…”

She nodded. “Go on, kiddo.”

He actually snorted a laugh. “I was so into Alex... Am so into him. But, like. With Lafayette? I... and if it didn’t... I don’t know. Together they’re... And with me? I don’t know... if it would work.”

Peggy took a deep breath, her lashes fluttering with impatience. “I’m going to try and translate that into something cohesive. What I hear you saying is you are sure about how you feel about Alex, but then you started to have feelings for Laf too? That made things complicated because they’re together and you don’t wanna mess that up, or mess up what you have with Alex? Is that correct?”

“Yes. Um. Also. I mean. Lafayette. What if... What if, he might not... Like me like that?” 

“Well if what Eliza tells me is any indication,” she said gleefully, “I highly doubt that.”

A spark of curiosity. “What?”

“Alex was upset when you guys broke up, but I mean, he’s more or less functioning. Lafayette was the one really broken up about it.”

“Really?”

“Uh... Yeah? Alex is pretty resilient. Laf is a bit of a drama queen, plus he’s really not used to disappointment. Eliza told me he also feels guilty, like he was the reason you left, that he scared you off and screwed things up for Alex.” She pouted a little. “‘Liza won’t actually tell me what you saw that set you off. I assume it was something... Raunchy. Big sister stuff and all that.”

John rolled his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t, but hearing that Lafayette was... Upset about losing him? It lit a tiny flame in him. Warmed him. 

Was something there?

Peggy gulped the rest of her drink, checked her phone for the time. “Ok, I gotta run. Good talk, team. In all seriousness though, you should call them. Something to think about.”

***

John stared at the blank “to” message screen on his phone. Words continued to fail him. What could he possibly say? 

_Hi._

_It’s John._

_I know it’s been over a month._

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._

_Can I come back?_

Of course, nothing was right. So he said nothing


	18. CHRISTMAS EVE

**CHRISTMAS EVE**

Back home, Christmas Eve was always a bigger deal than actual Christmas. Father hosted a cocktail party, they would all go to midnight services together. Growing up, it was the one day of the year he was permitted to stay up late. When John was a kid, midnight always felt so special, like he got to see a side of everyone they kept hidden in the day. 

This Christmas Eve, John spent alone. He called Marty around six, said “hello” on speaker phone. The sounds of the party depressed him. 

With his jobs stilled for the season, John hadn’t drawn in a while. So he spent the evening curled up on the couch, a glass of wine close by, pencil in hand. Did a few warm up sketches, simple figures and faces. Nothing of note. 

Someone buzzed his door. 

His heart hammering, he went to the speaker. “Yes?”

“UPS,” the voice called through the intercom. 

Of course. He was dumb to even hope. 

John hit the button to let the delivery guy in. Signed for the package, a good-sized box but lightweight. Another Christmas gift. From one of his Aunts, probably. He hoped vaguely it was one of those cheese and sausage gift boxes, he was feeling sort of snacky. 

A flick of the kitchen scissors and he was into the box. His name, in slightly familiar looping script, written on an envelope. Set on top of a gift wrapped in deep blue paper. 

The note read:

_John,_

_Forgive me if I have overstepped by sending you this. He was purchased before you left, with the intention of finding a home with you. He belongs with you. Take care of him._

_We miss you._

_Love from,_

_Lafayette_

John read and reread the note until the words blurred. With the speed of his eyes. With tears. 

When he managed to compose himself, he lifted the present out of the shipping box. It was wrapped meticulously, the corners perfect. The paper was ocean blue, patterned with metallic designs. Tied with gold ribbon, topped in an immaculate bow. The very idea of Lafayette’s graceful fingers pressing pieces of tape against the seam, arranging the ribbon, meticulously setting it into the box made him glow. John was careful unwrapping the gift, peeled up the corners, untied the ribbon, slid the plain white gift box free of the stiff paper.

Deep breath in. Lifted the lid of the box. Buried within more blue tissue paper was something soft and round. He parted the paper. Sitting in the box was a stuffed sea turtle. A gorgeous, detailed sea turtle. His features were artful and precise. He was beautiful and soft and John lifted him out, almost squealed he was so pleased. Dangling from one flipper was a small tag, reading that the plush represented a real life endangered sea turtle that had been symbolically adopted, sponsored, in his name. John clutched the toy, actually sighed out loud.

Lafayette remembered he that he loved sea turtles? That some of his best memories were watching them hatch on the beach? Volunteering in high school to help build barriers to protect the nests? Watching the babies crawl to the waves, guided by the moon? Or did Alex tell him? Either way, he knew, he honored that. Lafayette heard him. 

With that, John was doubled over, hugging the turtle, overcome with sobs. Somehow he managed to make it to his bed, unmade from the night before, curled under the covers. Turned his face into his pillow, not wanting to get tears or snot on his turtle. When he regained composure, he spoke aloud. Imagined his turtle listening. 

“I love you,” he said to the turtle. “I love them. I love Alex. I love Lafayette. I love them both so much.”

If it wasn’t past nine on Christmas Eve, John would be pulling on his clothes, trudging through the snow, knocking down their door. No plans, no schemes, no gifts, no meals. Just him. And how he felt. 

And if it didn’t work, oh well. He had to try. He couldn’t continue to live with the weight of not knowing. 

This would only go two ways. If it went the way he wanted, he’d be with them. Two men he loved. Absolutely, unequivocally, irredeemably, loved. If they rejected him, at least he would have closure and could really move on. No more limbo, no more emotional purgatory. He could grieve then heal.

The last time he felt this excited on Christmas Eve was when he tried to stay up when he was seven, lay away in bed past two am, hoping to catch the sound of Santa’s reindeer on the roof. Now, twenty years later, he started at the ceiling. Willed morning to come faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm on tumblr: @likearootlesstree


	19. CHRISTMAS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Act 3
> 
> Enjoy

CHRISTMAS

If there was one useful thing John’s Southern upbringing had taught him, it was you never visited someone’s home empty handed. Especially not on Christmas Day.

Alex was easy, John had purchased his gifts weeks ago, before they broke up. Had it custom ordered. Hadn’t even opened the shipping box yet, was almost sick when it had been delivered right after Thanksgiving. John took the box down from the shelf in his coat closet. Finally opened the package. He had ordered him a journal, bound in cognac leather and engraved with his initials along with luxurious fountain pen, also personalized. John could actually smell the quality of the leather, which mingled with the fresh, woodsy, scent of the paper. John lovingly returned both items into their accompanying gorgeous gray gift box. 

What about Lafayette. Surely, John couldn’t present Alex with such a lovely, personal gift and have nothing for Lafayette. He paced for a while, considered a regift of the bottle of scotch his siblings had sent him, but that seemed so hollow, like an afterthought. 

Then, of course, it occurred to him. Back when Lafayette had first given him his colored pencils, he had spent hours, days, breaking them in, using the full spectrum. Drew tiny, detailed doodles and more fleshed out sketches of anything and everything around them--the changing trees, the smallest features of the city, little musings of his imagination. One such piece, though it was small and unfinished, sort of sketchy, was a drawing he had done of the three of them. Remembering the day at the apple orchard. The soft cranberry color of Alex’s sweater, the golds and oranges of the leaves all around the them, Lafayette’s smile. It was one of the few pictures John had drawn himself into, standing next to them, holding a basket overflowing with apples. The expression John had on his face was both happy and relaxed. He had felt that way. 

He had felt that way.

John went to the shelf where he kept memorabilia, a few books, and framed photos. He took one of these frames, a picture of his childhood pet dog, and swapped it for the drawing. Sure, the torn out sketch didn’t really fit in the frame and it was kind of a loser move to give him a used frame, but the important part was the picture itself. What it meant. John knew it was the right thing to give him.

By the time he had showered, did his hair, and dressed it was snowing again, the air thick with flakes. John shrugged, pulled on his heaviest coat, a knit hat, a scarf. Loaded the gifts into his backpack. Added the stuffed turtle as well, felt strange about leaving him alone in the apartment. Before he could question himself, he took a deep breath. Went outside.

The snow had picked up to a pretty good clip, was coming down in thick bunches and swirling with each gust of wind. Already piles and mounds of it, fluffy and white and sparkling, carpeted the sidewalks. Taking a cab was probably not the best idea in this weather, so John headed for the subway.

Upon emerging just a half hour later at the station by Alex and Lafayette’s building, the city had been almost whited out. It was snowing so fast and heavy that John actually stopped, stared for a moment. Sincerely hoped that this... reunion went well since the possibility of being snowed in seemed likely. Everything looked gorgeous. Despite being midday, it was so quiet. John hoped it was the holiday, that people were home with those that they loved. 

Dejavu. Smile from the doorman. Elevator ride. Hallway. Their door. 

Now or never. 

He knocked.

The door opened.

Alex stood in the doorway. He wore red and green patterned pajamas that had little Christmas trees printed on them, his hair braided into two pigtails, and fuzzy slippers. Like he had been lounging all day. The walking picture of exactly what John wanted to come home to every day. 

There was a moment of silent staring. Alex’s face was impassible. 

“Must be snowing pretty hard out there,” Alex finally said. “You’re frosted.”

John didn’t speak, his heart was beating in his throat.

“Darling? Who is at the door?” Coming from the kitchen, also in Christmas pajamas, was Lafayette, carrying two steaming mugs. He paused when Alex didn’t answer. John wasn’t sure if it was shock or he didn’t recognize him under all the layers.

“Can I come in?” John finally said, willing his voice not to crack. “I wanna talk. To both of you.”

“John?” Lafayette said, his voice carrying over Alex’s shoulder. Alex, still silent. Still stoic. “Is that John Laurens?”

Alex made a noncommittal grunt.

Lafayette set the mugs down, rushed over to the door. “John Laurens, Merry Christmas! Oh, but you are covered in snow, you are all wet and look cold! Please, come in, we have cocoa.”

But Alex refused to budge. Kept the doorway full with his frame. Despite being the same size as John, roughly, he seemed imposing. His body language frigid.

“Alexander, what are you doing? Let him in, he’s freezing.”

“Let him freeze. He already ran away once. Shouldn’t be too hard to find his way back to whatever hole he decided to crawl out of.” Alex moved to shut the door. As John said “Wait!” Lafayette caught the door in hand, halted it. 

Lafayette said something to Alex in French, his voice pleading. Alex responded, the notes in voice clipped and terse. Some back and forth, John feeling the snow soaking his clothes at it melted. . His teeth began to quietly chatter. Then Alex grumbled, stepped out of the way so John could enter the apartment.

They stood awkwardly in the entry, John dripping in melted snow, Lafayette looking like he was on the verge of shouting, and Alex with his arms folded, staring at John expectantly. 

“Well?” Alex said. “Say your piece. We’re listening.”

John cleared his throat. Looked at his shoes, wet with snow. Returned his gaze to their faces. “I owe you both an apology. I am truly, deeply sorry for the way I left. More sorry than you can ever imagine. I spent the last month regretting that night. I don’t have a good reason for what I did, but I have an explanation. See, I was--am--scared.” At the word, Alex’s face softened, even though he didn’t uncross his arms. “I’m a coward. So afraid of my feelings for both of you. Scared about what would happen if it didn’t work out. Even more scared if it did.”

“If what worked out?” Alex shot. The look in his eyes, John finally understood. He had to say. He had to tell them. “You need to say it.”

“I’d rather show you…” John trailed off, went to his book bag. Handed Alex the box and Laf the small gift bag he had picked up at a gift shop in the subway station. 

Alex opened his first, his eyes lighting up at the contents. Caressed the cover of the journal. Looked at John for the first time that day with something other than confusion or contempt. Affection. Lafayette pulled the framed drawing out of the gift bag. Stared at it for a good few minutes, ran his thumb over the glass. 

“When did you create this?” Lafayette asked, his voice steady. 

“Couple days after my birthday. I was remembering the orchard. Apple picking…” He trailed off, rubbed his cheek nervously. “It was a really good day.”

Lafayette nodded. Set the picture on the table. Admired it from a distance, then turned back to John. He was beginning to feel like prey, the way these two looked at him, circled him. Perhaps not physically, but the scrutiny made him feel surrounded. 

Then Lafayette broke the circle, stepped to John. Loomed over him, looked down at him. John tilted his head back, basked in the sudden closeness. John wanted to throw himself into his arms, pull Alex with him, kiss them both until everyone was dizzy. He wanted to be touched, welcomed, loved. 

John practically melted when Laf did this... Move, he sort of learned in, one hand near John’s hip, the other under his chin. Instead of focusing on all the signals his nerves threw at him, he instead thought about the moment. Laf’s closeness was warm and protective, not crowded or dangerous. All the feelings John had for him shouldn’t be cast in a painful light, but rather someone good and beautiful and promising rather than ruinous. 

“Are you going to tell us what you really want?” Alex’s voice was closer now, he was near Laf’s arm, the three of them all close enough to touch each other all at once. Lafayette was touching him and Alex was speaking to him and the last thing John needed to do was to just tell them. Tell them everything.

“I want you,” John said. “You. Lafayette. Us. The three of us. I want to stop being scared that this will just fall apart, that it will end in disaster if I love you both too much or too hard. I want to fall asleep next to you, wake up there too. Every day. I want to argue about what to watch on TV or what to make for dinner.” Once he got started, he couldn’t stop, all of it just pouring out of him. “I want to take care of both you, I want to make you guys laugh. I want to say what I feel, hear it said back to me, in two different voices. I love you both, so much. And I want you to love me back.” 

When he finished, he shuddered, scrunched his eyes shut. Waited. He knew he wasn’t the best with words, but it’s what he felt. And if it wasn’t good enough, then so be it.

The waiting finally ended. 

Even though they had kissed before, Lafayette’s mouth on his practically knocked him off his feet. Of course, it was different this time. Instead of playful and alcohol-soaked, this was soft, sweet and possessive. On the rare occasion that John allowed himself to examine the memory of that other time they kissed, he had found it almost jarring. Now, John could conclude that the last time they kissed, Lafayette had held back. This time there was no such thing. 

Too soon, he was pulling away, smiling, and John instinctively chased him, trying to restart the kiss, but then it became apparent why Laf had leaned away since Alex was leaning in, and instead of a reconciled kiss now it was bumped noses and chins and foreheads. 

“Ouch!” Alex griped, and then they were all giggling. He rubbed a spot on his forehead. “May I have a turn?” he said softly, and John smiled his real smile. Blushed a little, but it was a good thing. 

“Yeah,” John said. Alex’s kiss was familiar and restorative and perfect, then Laf was tugging him away, laughing. 

“You had months with him, mon chou, I need to catch up,” Lafayette teased, this time pulled John into his arms and was kissing his face, his brow, his hair, his cheeks. Alex was nuzzling his hair, arms around both him and Laf. 

“I’ve had to wait like a month, I knew what I was missing, it was much worse for me,” Alex said back, jockeyed for John’s lips. John laughed into Alex’s mouth, felt Lafayette tugging at his shirt. 

“As much fun as it is to listen to you fight over me,” John said. “I’m actually very cold and all wet and would really appreciate it if I could set my stuff down and maybe borrow some dry clothes?” 

“Oh!” Lafayette said, gleeful. “I have just the thing. I will be right back!” And he pecked a kiss on each of them before disappearing into the master bedroom.

“Come. Here.” Alex said gruffly, arms around him, hands on the small of his back, wandering. Touching like he was testing whether he was actually real. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” John babbled, buried his face against Alex’s neck. “I’m sorry, I should never have left, I was stupid, I was weak, I was--”

“Shhh, baby boy,” Alex replied. “It’s ok. I forgive you. The important part is you came back.” Pressed a kiss to his nose, but John looked up, parted his lips, and they kissed again. The kiss felt like home. “Next time, if you walk out on us, we’re walking after you.” 

“Not happening,” John said. “No way.”

Alex laughed and they hugged, clung to each other until Lafayette returned. John felt Alex’s hand spanning the small of his back, tugging at his sopping coat. 

“I have these for you,” Lafayette offered, sounding slightly shy. He held up a pair of pajamas that matched his and Alex’s. John’s heart skipped a beat. They had always known he’d come back. “If you want, I mean. We can all... We will match.”

John laughed to himself. “I do wanna wear them. Eventually.” Lowered his eyes, looked at them both meaningfully. 

Lafayette exhaled audibly, his eyes darkening. Alex shifted against John. 

“It’s like that?” Alex mused, his voice deep. Unbuttoned John’s coat, pushed it off his shoulders. It fell in a heap on the floor, and usually John would care, but…

As Alex ran his hands over the fabric of John’s shirt, Laf placed the pajamas on the nearest surface, came up behind John. Rested his hands on John’s shoulders, who leaned into his touch. Between them. Finally.

“Shall we, then?” Lafayette asked, cocked his head in the direction of the bedroom. 

In the split second it took John to nod his agreement, he was being pulled there, led to their private space. Invited in. Stood next to the bed, traded kisses for what felt like hours. Up close, they were both so different. Alex kissed like he had something to prove, like he was trying to tell John something through every pass of his tongue, every small noise he made against him. Lafayette’s kisses were powerful, shook him to his core. Kissing Alex was like wandering through the woods without fear of getting lost. Kissing Lafayette was confronting the ocean.

“You’re shivering,” Alex noted, and it was true. The cold, the kissing, the closeness. Understanding Alex’s unspoken suggestion, John lifted his arms. Laf took the hint, and with maddening slowness, pulled John’s shirt off of him, flung it to the side. Immediately put his mouth to John’s bare shoulder, kissed a path to his collarbone then the hollow of his throat. John’s head fell back, he sighed, cupped the back of Laf’s neck. Alex stepped back, went to sit on the edge of the bed. Smiled as he watched John and Lafayette together, the tender, adoring way Laf treated him. 

“Bring him here,” Alex requested, his grin now mischievous. Laf returned his smirk, swept John into his arms and carried him to the bed. Caught his lips in another kiss as he bent to lay him gently on the bed. Alex crawled next to him, nestled against his side. Laid a hand flat over John’s heart while their mouths met again. When they broke apart, panting, Lafayette caught John’s eyes. Made a playful face, then pulled off his own shirt. 

John couldn’t bring himself to care that he was staring. He had never seen Lafayette without a shirt, and the sight was even more incredible than he expected. Lafayette was all chiseled muscles and beautiful brown skin, broad and rippling and perfect. His eyes didn’t know where to look: his abs, his shoulders, his hips. 

“I like the way you are looking at me.” Laf smirked, joined them on the bed. Immediately, John had to touch him, had to run his hands over every inch, feel the warmth and the firmness. It was like Lafayette glowed, like he had been warming himself in the sun for hours. 

“Good fucking God,” John finally managed to spit out. “How?”

“Jeez, John, it’s not like you aren’t jacked too,” Alex teased. Caressed his hand over John’s stomach, noting his six pack. Alex sighed loudly with exaggerated pleasure. “Lucky me, my two ripped men.”

“Shirt?” Laf said, directing the question to Alex. He stripped himself, then went for John’s jeans. Lafayette knocked Alex’s hands away. “Not yet. We will take our time.” The dominance in Laf’s voice, along with the refusal to rush, made John’s gut tighten. 

Alex made a small sound of disappointment, then settled in. Contented himself to alternating between playing with John’s hair and kissing him deeply while Lafayette apparently assigned himself the task of kissing every freckle on John’s torso, his lips and his breath a wonderful tease against his skin. 

“I want to count them.” His words tickled.

“Good luck. I’ve tried.”

John huffed a laugh, pet Laf’s hair. 

“Mmm. Could be arduous. Plenty of time for that later.” Kissed John’s belly button, held him by the hips. “You are as lovely as I imagined,” Laf added, the tenderness in his voice squeezing John’s heart. A sob caught in his throat. 

“Honey,” John breathed, cupped Lafayette’s chin. Then Alex enticed him into another kiss, and John was launched into the incomparable experience of having the undivided attention of two men, their mouths, their hands. It was spellbinding, the dizzy dance of their touches. Alex kissing his neck, Lafayette licking his abs. Alex nipping his ear, Lafayette running his lips over his pecs. Alex nuzzling his face and murmuring terms of endearment, Lafayette kissing along the waistband of his jeans. 

Then in tandem, Laf was unzipping his jeans while Alex pushed them down, John was relieved he thought to put on a nicer pair of boxer briefs, brightly colored ones. Laf made this pleased sound in the back of his throat, eyed him slowly, like he was drinking him in. 

Alex cut in with something in French, something that made Lafayette smile and knocked him out of his silent reverie. 

“Alexander tells me you know the color system?” Lafayette said, his voice low. It took John a second to remember what in the world he was talking about it, he was so turned on it was beginning to cloud his thoughts. 

He cleared his throat. “Sure. Um, red is stop.” 

The gleam in Lafayette’s eyes practically made John’s heart stop. Alex must have sensed his sudden hesitation, so he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulled him closer, pet his chest. “You ok, baby?” he whispered, voice soothing. 

John huffed a quiet laugh. One gorgeous man holding him tenderly, a second one between his thighs looking at him like a starving man considering a feast. Two men that he loved, that he felt so fiercely and so strongly for it was a literal ache in his chest. Of course he was ok. Ok wasn’t even a word in his lexicon. Ok laid on a separate plain. John tempted Alex into a gentle kiss, lips petal soft. Lafayette’s fingers digging into the meat of his thighs. 

“Better than ok,” John whispered. “Elated.” Grinned down at Laf, waiting between his legs still. “I’m green.”

“Good.” Lafayette hooked his fingers into the elastic of John’s underwear, yanked them down. “I have waited long enough. My patience ends here.” 

There was a beat, a strange long moment, where Lafayette continued to look at him, to take in every inch of him, smirking to himself as his gaze caressed every bit of bare skin. And with him that close to his dick, his breath warm, John was so aroused he couldn’t even think to be shy. “Alexander, your descriptions did not do him justice,” he teased. Alex giggled into John’s hair. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. John giggled right back. He was giddy with the knowledge. Felt cherished. 

John was eager for the feeling of Lafayette’s lips on his cock, so when he dipped his head, John’s eyes drifted shut, waiting. And then. _Oh._

Lafayette pushed his legs open and back, licked so delicately at John’s hole. Kissed twice, three times, the roundness of his cheeks, press of his tongue right under John’s balls. John threw his head back so violently, he almost knocked into Alex, who practically cackled he was so delighted with the display. 

“May I?” Lafayette asked. Kissed his perineum once more. 

Hissed between his teeth. “Yes!” And Lafayette’s mouth was against him, lips parting, tongue exploring. Sucked a small spot, then a burst of wet warmth and Lafayette’s tongue, licking all focused and rhythmic, not pushing in but just tasting. 

The sound that escaped John’s throat was downright embarrassing, high and needy and broken. Gorgeous hum from Lafayette, buzzing into his skin. Threw his head back again, this time Alex nuzzled him. “Told you so,” he said, infuriating know-it-all voice. 

John wished he was had the mental faculties to tell him to shut up, to let Lafayette work his magic undisturbed. Instead, his response was more of a garbled plea, for Laf to keep going, for Alex to hold him tighter. In this moment there was only two things that mattered, the warmth of Alex’s arms and Lafayette’s talented mouth. 

His thumb joined his mouth, applying the smallest iota of pressure, enough to make John’s eyes water, roll back. Few more kitten licks, and he was surfacing, lips glistening. Kissed John’s bent knee. 

“How is he?” Alex asked, so casual it made John’s balls tighten, his heart ratchet. John reached behind him, pulled Alex’s hair. Wanted a kiss, practically melted when he was rewarded. 

“Absolutely worth the wait, mon chou.” The look on his face, the absolute sincerity in his voice, made John’s heart swell with affection, a physical swooping in his stomach. Their limbs were all tangled as John shifted, dove for Lafayette, needed to kiss him, needed him in his arms. Brought him down, so Alex could touch him too, they all three could connect and continue to touch, be close. 

Tasting himself on Lafayette’s lips was exhilarating, made his cock jump and blurt precome, made him clench down on nothing. He knew he was curious about anal, about the possibility of someone, in particular Alex, eventually fucking him. But the heady, deep way Laf was touching him, kissing him, caused a physical need to bloom in him, an ache of desire he’d never felt before. A desire to submit. 

John actually went boneless in Laf’s arms, gave himself over to the exquisite feeling of being sandwiched between the two of them. Alternating kisses, palms skimming the expanse of exposed skin, chests, stomachs, torsos, hips. John realized that he was the only one naked, and that no one had touched his cock yet, and this both made him glow with anticipation and yearn for that touch, wanted Lafayette to wrap his long, graceful fingers around his length. 

“Can I?” John panted between kisses, thrilled and distracted by the fact that Lafayette refused to take his mouth off him. His legs twined with Alex’s, could feel his erection, adamant and thick, poking at his backside through the soft flannel of Alex’s pajamas. John reached behind himself, gave Alex a few reassuring squeezes, relished quiet moans that jumped from his throat. “Can I?” he repeated, caught Lafayette’s eye, pulled at his waistband. Ran the back of his fingers over the soft hair that led down his tummy into his pants. 

“By all means,” Lafayette said, a smile in his voice. John had a sense of Lafayette’s shape and size, but he wanted to unwrap it himself. 

Pulled himself reluctantly away so he could watch what he revealed; boxer briefs stretched tight over his bulge, black and patterned with candy canes. He grinned at the cuteness, juxtaposed against his arousal. Peeled off the boxers, tossed them aside. John’s mouth practically watered at the sight. Lafayette was thick and flushed dark, big bordering on the point of intimidating. The sight of him, large and hard, nest of neatly trimmed black curls, the dark downy hair of his thighs. 

Silently, John stared, studied. When Lafayette bit his lip and shifted, looked at John almost bashfully, he realized that Lafayette was awaiting some sort of response from him. His approval. 

“Oh, honey,” John sighed. Swept his palm down Laf’s abs, pet his pubic hair. “You’re gorgeous. Can I touch you?”

Lafayette quirked an eyebrow, took John by the wrist and placed his hand at the base of his dick. “Mon cher, touch whatever you would like,” he said. From behind him, Alex was sucking at his ear, reached around so he alternate between touching John and Lafayette. John gave Lafayette a few good strokes, marveling at the silkiness of his skin, the beautiful way he reacted, quiet groan, fluttering lashes. Then John pressed in for another kiss, their dicks sliding together, the friction just enough to make John whimper. 

“Tell us what you want,” Alex whispered in his ear, kissed his temple. “Tell us and we’ll give it you, Jack.” 

Everything leading up to this moment, and John suddenly felt like it was almost too big, like he couldn’t even carry it in his own heart. He knew what he wanted. He could feel it in every beat of his blood, every inch of his skin, every unspoken word hovering on his lips. 

How do you ask for everything all at once?

He reached for Alex. Wanted to hear him sigh in his ear, wanted to pet him and love on him and give him the attention he knew, the kind that would have him rolling his hips and hissing between his teeth. From muscle memory, John could remember the pattern, the right pressure and speed. 

“ _Baby boy_ ,” Alex cooed. “Asked what _you_ wanted.”

Meanwhile, Lafayette inched his way back down John’s body, scattering kisses here and there, until he was eyelevel with John’s dick. Flicked his eyes back up, smirked, licked his lips. John, watching him with the most intensity he could muster, felt his body respond to the sight, his hips pulsing up, bit his lower lip.

“Shoulda told you,” Alex whispered, his lips wet against the nape of John’s neck. “Laf’s a mind reader in bed.” 

The warmth of Lafayette’s laughter against his skin. Kissed the tip of John’s dick, lighting up when John moaned, high in his throat. “One of my many talents.”

“You gonna show him what else you good at, babe?” Alex asked. Cocking that cute grin. John had to kiss him. “Show him what that famous French mouth is good for?” 

“No need to be so crude, Alexander. Mon cher?” 

John was so focused on jerking off Alex and trying not to pass out from the implications of their conversation, it took him a second to realize Lafayette was addressing him. Of course he wanted Lafayette to wrap his gorgeous lips around his dick, had entertained various fantasies of the very thing for months. It took a lot of self control not to grab him by the hair, steer his face to his cock. Something told him, in the commanding glint in Laf’s eyes, that such a thing would not be received well. If anything, Lafayette was restraining himself, wanted to be sure of John’s consent. And the thought, the very notion, of Laf wanting him, taking from him, sent a distinct shiver down his spine. He had to tease, just a bit. 

“Yes, honey?” Matched his gaze.

Alex thought he was talking to him. “Wanna... wanna watch Laf suck your dick while you jack me off, baby boy.”

Laf was still smirking. Still watching John with the precision of a wolf. John tugged at Laf’s hair. Slowed the hand working Alex’s dick. 

“God, yes,” John finally said, granting permission. 

The touch of Lafayette’s mouth on his cockhead was like a revelation. Its own form of poetry. The lush drag of his velvet mouth up and down John’s shaft made him buck, cry out, distracted him from his task of handling Alex. Flick of his tongue, right application of suction, laser burn of his eye contact. John wished he could feel bad for actually letting go of Alex, yanking his own hair at the roots with both hands as he arched his back, held back the scream that threatened to tear from his throat, which came out as a ragged moan instead.

“Good lord, Laf,” Alex said. “You broke him.” The small laugh from the back of Lafayette’s throat reverberated through John, and he hissed. “I have to say, you look quite attractive with his dick down your throat like that.” 

“Stop... Talking…” John gasped, guttural. By way of a response, Laf’s tongue fluttered on the underside of his dick, and John had to bite his own tongue to stop himself from losing it completely and face-fucking him. 

“Laf,” Alex whined, drawing out the vowel. “John’s not giving me a handy anymore. You’re _distracting_ him. It’s not fair.” White light behind John’s eyes as Lafayette pulled away. Hitched an evil smile up at Alex.

“Well, that will not do. I daresay if John wants to come, he needs to finish what he started with you first.”

Alex groaned, and John’s dick twitched at the commanding tone in Lafayette’s voice. “Wanna be good for me, baby boy?” John nodded. Alex rolled away for a second, rummaged in a drawer. Returned with a bottle of lube. The sight of him drizzling the liquid on his own cock practically made John’s mouth water. Like watching a master pastry chef glaze a dessert. The urge to mount Alex, to ride him, swelled in John, made his toes curl. He ached for him, and if it weren’t the small voice in the back of his head, reminding him that he wanted to be better prepared for his first time, he would have been climbing atop him without hesitation. Instead, Alex guided his hand back to his cock, slick and hard, lifted his hips encouragingly. 

“Look at you,” Laf mused from between his thighs. “What a gorgeous show. My word, John, you really know how to work our Alexander up.”

“Faster,” Alex mewled. “Fuck, Jack. Quit... Quit teasing!”

“You wanna talk about teasing?” John shot back. “Interrupted one of the best blow jobs of my life--”

“Is that a challenge?” Alex snapped. “I feel like I’ve given you some pretty good ones.”

“I swear to god if you don’t come soon,” John grumbled, but his actions didn’t match his words. He pulled out every trick he knew Alex enjoyed, rubbed the crown with his thumb, stroked just the upper half of his shaft, squeezed on the downstroke. “C’mon, sweetheart. Taking forever. Maybe I should just go…”

“No!” Alex and Lafayette both cried out, in unison. Lafayette actually bore down on John’s hips, pinning him to the bed. “You are staying right here, until I suck you dry,” he said firmly. John shivered.

Something in Lafayette’s tone snagged Alex, because after that declaration he was writhing, signaling with his trademark bitten off groan that he was close. John steadied his stroking pattern, tightened his grip, kissed his shoulder idly. Divided his attention between watching Alex come undone next to him and stealing glances at Lafayette. The hunger in his eyes as he witnessed his boyfriend fall apart. 

The sound Alex made as he spilled into John’s hand was so exquisite, so perfect, John could cry over it. “Jack…” His voice broke. Long, gritty moan. And then: “God, Jack, I’ve _missed_ you.” A few more barbs in John’s heart. Anchors. 

John brought his hand, messy with Alex’s spend, to his lips. Locked eyes with Lafayette and licked up the mess, hoping to god his tongue looked sensuous and not sloppy. Knew he had succeeded when he felt Laf give a sharp intake of breath. “Can’t wait to see what you taste like,” John said playfully. Beside him, Alex giggled, rolled closer to John, nuzzled his neck. 

“Listen to you,” Alex teased. “Laf, this boy couldn’t string a single coherent erotic sentence together when I first met him now he’s talking like porn star!” 

John shushed him, embarrassed.

Laf lifted an eyebrow. God, he looked good when he did that. “Is that so? Well, perhaps I bring it out in him?” And before Alex could reply, he swallowed John back down, took him all the way to the back of his throat. 

The next few minutes were bliss, distilled down to its purest form. John felt himself simultaneously unraveling at the seams and coiling as tight as a spring. Laf really meant it about sucking him dry, the force at which he blew him was heart-stopping. John had to work, had to physically stop himself from thrusting, was hyper aware of the pull of his body, how badly he wanted to dig deep into the moist warmth, watch the glide of himself back and forth across Lafayette’s perfect lips. Alex must have caught the tension, or he was being that obvious, because he egged him on suddenly. 

“Wanna fuck that pretty mouth, Jack?” Took one of John’s hands in own, squeezed it. “Whatever you need, baby boy. Lafayette can take it, he’s a big boy. You’re so _sexy_ when you lose it, when you finally come. Go ahead, baby. Give it up for him.” With John’s dick still in his mouth, Laf nodded, spurring John on.

John eased into it gently, experimented with a few shallow, small thrusts. It only took Lafayette delivering a tight squeeze to his balls and Alex hissing “yes” in his ear before he surrendered completely to the feeling, permitted himself to plunge, in out back in again. Seconds later, lightening fast, his orgasm tugged at him, then took off inside him like a rocket. If he hadn’t felt so lightheaded he might have been embarrassed at how long he didn’t last, but in all honesty, the way Laf was slurping his cum down, clawing at his thighs, blasted any pretense away. 

No, John Laurens was done feeling foolish over what he wanted. It had kept him too long from these two. 

While he basked, he delighted in the distinct pleasure of being bracketed between Alex and Lafayette, the safety and the comfort to be had there. Minutes ticked by, his brain descended back to earth and his heart beat came down, returned to normal.

“Ya good, Jack?” Alex smiled at him, all toothy. 

John said nothing, but launched himself at Lafayette, suddenly starving, hungry, ravenous for him, to touch him all over and taste him. Alex followed his lead, ran a parallel path over and across Laf’s body, pausing only at points to trap John in a fevered kiss. John tried to split his kisses evenly, for every touch of his lips to Alex he returned the favor to Laf in kind. 

Now John had given a respectable number of blow jobs in his life, yet few would ever compare in his memory to this moment, when he slid to his knees at the foot of the bed, gazed up Lafayette, sitting all casual and leaning looking like every fantasy John ever had about him. Alex lounged next to him like a cat, sated and sleepy in his post orgasmic glow. 

“Show him what you got, babe,” Alex coaxed him. “Go on.”

Under Lafayette’s eager, roving eyes the shyness returned. Instead of balking though, he dove in, nosed at Laf’s bare cock. Took his time, kissed a path up and down the length. Second time, when he arrived back at the head, he parted his lips, took him in. Above him, Lafayette made a quiet sound of pleasure, halfway between a hiss and a moan. John didn’t have the best gag reflex, so he couldn’t take him all the way in, couldn’t deep throat, so what he couldn’t fit he wrapped his hand around, pumping in a way so his lips would meet his hand in the down stroke. He didn’t want to go too fast, wanted to draw out the act just a little bit, wanted to savor the taste of Lafayette’s flesh in his mouth, the powerful feeling of kneeling at his feet. The grip he had in his hair. The pretty, reserved sounds he was making. 

Gazing up at him, it was so satisfying to see him, head thrown back in pleasure, abs drawn tight, brow furrowed. John felt vindicated, and sexy, knowing he was doing this to him, making him feel this way. 

“You’re treating him so _nice_ ,” Alex cut in suddenly. “So gentle. He won’t break, my love.”

“Do not tell me what to do,” Lafayette said evenly. He ran his hand through John’s hair, scrunched some of the curls in his fingers. “You do look quite lovely on your knees for me, like this, I must admit.” 

To encourage him, John looked up, tried to make his eyes wide and pleading, gave the base of his dick a squeeze. 

“How do you like my cock, little one? You are so pretty with your mouth stuffed full like that. Perhaps we shall keep you here with us, you can do this all day, yes?” The only sound John could manage in response was a high pitched squeak, and he bobbed his head with renewed vigor. Wanted to show Lafayette just how _good_ he could be. 

“Oh, he fucking loves it, Laf. You gonna bust all over his pretty face?” 

“I think not, mon chou. I want him to swallow every drop.”

At that, John moaned, loud, the sound a pleasant shock around Laf. A split second later he was coming, a quick jolt and his semen, hot and heavy, shooting on the back of John’s tongue. “Yeah, baby boy,” Alex said, watching Lafayette tense then unfurl as his orgasm pulsed through him. “Milk that dick, drink it all down.” 

John suckled at him, swallowed repeatedly, until Laf batted him away. As soon as he was off, though, Laf leaned down and scooped him up, pulled him into the bed so he was between him and Alex. 

They said nothing, John just watched in an awed silence as Alex took one of his hands, Laf the other. Their fingers tangled. They lay in a sated, sleepy pile for a half hour or so. Then, someone’s tummy rumbled, and they were giggling and kissing again. 

“Did we just do that?” John finally asked. He could feel the grin splitting his face.

“We did.” Laf lifted John’s hand to his lips, kissed the back of it. 

“Yeah, and it was awesome.” Alex cuddled into John’s side, snuffled at his ear. 

“We’re going to do that again right?” 

“We are going to do that again later today,” Lafayette answered, and John shivered. “But, I am hungry now.”

“Same,” said Alex. John went to sit up, but Alex grabbed him by the shoulder. Pushed him back down into the pillows. “Hey. Don’t ever leave us again, ok?”

John studied his face, could see the sincerity and the vulnerability there. “I can’t. Even if I wanted to. Y’all are stuck with me now.”

Alex grinned, planted a kiss on his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. “Good,” he said. 

And that was that.

***

The rest of Christmas Day was the best in John’s adult life. He and Alex showered together while Lafayette made lunch. They took group selfies in their matching Christmas PJs, uploaded them to instagram which drew a number of notifications and likes from their friend group. They cuddled on the couch and watched “A Muppet Christmas Carol,” drank hot chocolate and ate fresh baked cookies. Before bed they screwed around again, took it slower and sweeter than before, Lafayette and John spending some well needed time to acquaint themselves with one another’s bodies. 

Falling asleep between them, his turtle tucked under his arm, was the most natural thing in the world, and John wondered why it had taken him so long to get here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please...  
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> 
> I am thirsty for validation


	20. FRIDAY

**FRIDAY**

The week between Christmas and New Years passed by in a hazy, pleasant blur. They holed up in the apartment, Alex working from home, John neglecting his own projects and Laf between jobs, they could focus on each other and being together. 

They spent an embarrassing amount of time on the couch, binging on bad TV. The rest of the time was dedicated to cuddling, making out, seeing how many orgasms they could have in one day. John loved everything about being with the two of them, how joking about the latest episode of Law and Order could turn into tickling and kissing. How one day while Alex was in his office, hammering out his most recent piece, Lafayette edged John through a whole episode of some cooking competition on Food Network (John wasn’t really paying attention). Laf made him choose a contender to bet on, told him he could only come if that chef won. By the end of the show, however, they were both so turned on that they didn’t even pay attention, Lafayette just dipped his head and jerked John off straight into his mouth.

On Friday, a few days after Christmas, Lafayette and John ventured out of their love nest for two reasons. John wanted some stuff, like clean clothes, from his apartment, and they were running low on snacks. They took the train over to John’s place, and John got to thrill in snuggling under Lafayette’s arm during the subway ride, his own hand possessively on Lafayette’s stomach. It felt so good, so right to be giving him affection out in the world, to legitimize that yes, this incredible man was ultimately his. 

Lafayette was oddly quiet behind him while John went to his dresser, plucked out several pairs of underwear, a few articles of comfy pants and t-shirts, some socks. Drifted over to his closet.

“How fancy are we getting for Herc’s party? Do I need a tie or?”

Instead of answering, Lafayette came up behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his ear. “Wear whatever you would like, mon cher. You will be beautiful in anything.”

“Sweet talker,” John said, grinning. As best as he could with Laf wrapped around him, he reached for a pair of dark wash jeans, a button down shirt in mint green, and a navy blazer. Folded them carefully, knowing they would probably get get wrinkled in his backpack, but he could always iron them at their apartment. “Something up?” John finally said when Lafayette refused to relax his hold on him. 

“I am a touch jealous,” he admitted. “All those times, for months, Alexander had you to himself in this bed.”

John giggled, patted Laf on the arm. “Would you like a turn, then, my dear?” he asked. 

“I thought you would never ask!” John had forgotten Lafayette could lift him so easily, so he gasped when Lafayette picked him up, carried him over to the bed. There was something especially nice about making out with Laf in his own home, kissing and touching with no actual destination in mind. John adored the way Lafayette hovered over him, made him feel small and delicate. Hands over clothes. When Laf cupped him through his jeans, John made a very desperate noise, blushed over his own eagerness.

“So needy,” Laf observed. Squeezed him again. John squinted his eyes shut, tried not to whine. Shimmied his hips, silently willed Laf to unzip his pants. “Do not get your hopes up, little one,” Laf admonished, correctly interpreting John’s body language. “You will not be coming until we return home.”

“What! Why?” John cried. “That’s just mean!”

“Perhaps.” Lafayette nuzzled John’s neck, pecked a few kisses there. “Or perhaps I will just find it extremely arousing to watch you squirm in public. Shame I cannot have you wear a plug yet. Oh well. Soon.”

John practically choked on his tongue, could see it so clearly, Lafayette fingering him open, working the toy in. Walking through Whole Foods, harboring such a naughty little secret. Lafayette must have felt John twitch under him, another obvious signal.

“You’d plug me?” John said in a small voice, hoping his question would lead Lafayette to describe in more detail…

“Oh, yes. Your cute little ass is just begging to be stuffed. Bad little boys like you often need some sort of reminder of to whom they belong. Just think, every step, and you will remember that ass is all mine.”

A wave of something new washed over John. The unveiled possession in Lafayette’s voice, the dominance, made him weak with lust. The sudden, raw urge to turn over all power to him, to trust him to take the lead, to take care of him, to let everything else wash away. John felt floaty in his own skin, almost buzzed. He bit his lower lip, snuggled closer to Lafayette. 

Laf lifted his head, looked at him carefully. “I think we should go pick up our food now. I am sure Alexander is waiting?”

“‘Kay,” John said, surprising even himself with how tiny his voice sounded.

“Interesting…” Lafayette said nothing more, just kissed him. Straightened their clothes. Insisted on shouldering John’s bag for him. Even zipped up John’s coat, adjusted his scarf. Being doted on like this was so odd, so unusual, but there was no denying the flood of warmth in his chest, tingling all the way to his fingers and toes. 

John wanted more. 

To say their shopping trip was interesting was an understatement. John was so keyed up it felt like there was a charge in the air. He trailed after Lafayette, who pushed the cart, checked the list on his phone, grumbled to himself in French. At one point, John wandered off down the cracker and cookie aisle, plucked some organic oreos off the shelf. 

“What do you have there, sweet thing?” Lafayette asked as John returned to the cart. 

“Cookies,” John said softly. Shuffled on his feet. “Can we get them?”

Lafayette smiled. “I am not sure, little one, they are not on the list.”

John drooped, disappointed. “Okay,” he said softly, moved to go put them back. 

“Do you really want them?”

Nodding, John looked back at Laf. 

“Alright then, you can have the cookies. But, that means when we get home, you need to be a good boy for me. You think you can do that?”

“Yes,” John said, breathless. “I’ll be good.” 

Lafayette grinned, took the box of cookies from John, placed it in the cart with the fresh fruits and veggies, the whole grain baguette, the wedge of brie. They headed to the check out.

***

They didn’t say much the train ride home, just sat side by side in companionable silence. When they reached the apartment, Lafayette called for Alex.

“Are you ready for a break, mon chou?” he asked as Alex came out of his office. Alex stretched, ran his hands through his own hair. 

“Yeah, I think I can stop for a bit. Why, what’s up?” He looked between John and Laf, noticing the wellspring of tension between them. The unusual way John was looking at Lafayette, his hands in his pockets. 

Laf smirked at Alex. “Will you help me put away the groceries? Afterwards, John is going to need some... Tending to.”

Still confused, Alex went to the kitchen. “Okay…”

Turning to John, who still stood silently in the doorway of the kitchen, Lafayette said, “Little one? Please go to the bedroom, undress, and wait on the bed. Do you think you can do that for us?” 

His eyes big, John nodded. Scampered off to the bedroom, while Lafayette explained to Alex in hushed French what he had in mind. When they finally joined John in the bedroom, they found him, naked and sprawled out on the bedspread, staring at the ceiling. One hand tucked behind his head, the other toying softly with his dick, which was starting to fill out under his distracted hand. 

Immediately, Alex went to the walk in closet, returned moments later with a pair of leather cuffs, lined with microfleece, and a blindfold. Lafayette had planted his feet, crossed his arms. Watched carefully as Alex joined John on the bed, took him by the wrist.

“Oh, no, no, no. You naughty boy. This will never do.” John looked up at Alex with wide eyes, slightly shocked as he snapped one of his wrists in the cuffs. “Who told you that you could touch yourself?” Fed the chain of the cuffs through the bars in the headboard, yanked his other wrist to meet the cuff. Fastened it swiftly. “I asked you a question, little boy.”

“No... no one told me…” he said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, _Papi_.”

Laf exchanged a gleeful look with Alex. “He calls you Papi?”

“Sometimes,” Alex said. Went to work putting the blindfold on John, pleasantly surprised at how pliant and obedient John was being. And not just obedient, but comfortable. Relaxed. Alex pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then backed off so he and Lafayette could admire his handiwork.

“Interesting,” Lafayette repeated, a refrain from earlier. John squirmed in his bonds, his lips parted and gasping quietly. “John? Darling? Color?”

“Lafayette?” John answered, his voice small. 

“I am here,” Laf affirmed. Sat on the edge of the bed, placed his palm flat on John’s abs. “Tell me your color, little one.”

“Green.” John’s voice came out shivery. 

Instead of a verbal reply, Lafayette put both of his hands on him. Dragged his hands in mirror imaged patterns, down John’s chest, over his hips, across his thighs. John lit up under his touch, arched his back and sighed. Alex sat at the foot of the bed, watched in rapt attention as Lafayette’s hands continued down John’s legs, his calves. Laf studied how John reacted to each of his touches, where he lifted his hips and sighed, where his face grew pinched. He increased the speed of his touches, the pressure. Traced his fingernails up John’s sides. Back at his chest, he dug his nails in sharp, and scratched. John yowled in response, twisted. 

“Yellow, yellow!” John cried out. 

Lafayette removed his hands. “What is wrong, sweet thing?”

“N-no... No pain. No scratching.”

“Okay, baby boy. I believe I can still make you cry while treating you gentle.” 

John made a choked sound. “Laf, please…” 

Lafayette dipped his head, circled his hand around John’s length. Put his lips to the head, kissed him there. Immediately, John arched into him, tried to get his cock into Laf’s mouth, who pulled away and tutted him. “Very bad,” he said. Waited until John relaxed back onto the bed, returned to licking him. 

It took just several minutes of kissing and licking at his dick before John was begging. His cock was strained, flushed and leaking, curved towards his stomach. Alex watched in astonished awe as Lafayette drew him closer and closer to the edge, and backed away. Watching the sweat soak John’s brow, him twist in the cuffs, try to kick in frustration. “How long you gonna tease him for?” Alex asked as Lafayette pulled away a third time.

“Until he shows me he deserves to come,” Lafayette responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

John, though he appeared to be lost to sensation, must have heard this exchange, because immediately he started begging. 

“Tell me what to do, I’ll do it, please, please Lafayette.” John lifted his hips again, this time spread his legs. “Will you fuck me? Please?” Lafayette smirked at Alex. 

“I do not think you are ready for that yet, darling.” Sped up the hand that was jacking him off. “First, we all need to go get tested.”

“Yes, ok, anything, please…!”

“Good. I want to come in you bare your first time.” 

John let out a high animal moan, shimmied his pelvis.

“Do you like the sound of that, little one?”

“Fuck…Fuck, yes...”

“God, what a slut you are, Jack,” Alex observed. “A virgin just begging for cock.”

“Not... I’m not a virgin.”

“This part of you is,” Lafayette pointed out, grazing two fingers against John’s hole. “Not for much longer, though.”

Through his tears, John whimpered, nodded. “Please, sir, tell me what I need to do to come, please.”

“Sir?” Alex scoffed, but Laf hushed him. 

“I like it. Yes, I like it a lot. Mmm, what a polite little slut you are, mon cher.” Lafayette played with him some more, considered. He glanced between John, writhing on the bed and Alex watching from the side. “I have an idea…” he said, mostly to himself. Snatched Alex by a handful of hair, yanked him forward.

“Ow, fuck Laf!” Alex protested.

“It is ‘sir’ to you, too, my love,” Lafayette said darkly. 

“Like hell,” Alex spat, tried to twist away. Lafayette doubled down on his grip in Alex’s hair, making him sneer in pain. “Let go!” Beneath them, John, only able to hear what was happening, squirmed and cried out from being ignored. Blood burning hot from the shift in dynamics, of Laf dominating not just him but Alex as well. 

“I do not hear a color,” Lafayette noted. Pushed Alex down until his face was flush with John’s dick, glistening with precum. “Suck, sweetheart.” Despite the pet name, there was a sharp edge to his tone, one that made John shiver even though it wasn’t directed towards him. Better yet, when Alex’s mouth went around him, sucked enthusiastically, he almost wept with relief from the contact. The blowjob Alex gave him was unlike anything John had ever received. It lacked Alex’s normal enthusiasm, but made up for it in the control Lafayette exuded through it, by propelling Alex’s head up and down the length of John’s dick.

“Will you come for us, little one?” Here, Lafayette’s voice softened, but still contained a bit of a bite. “You look so beautiful, so pretty, so _helpless_ on the bed, spread out for us.”

“Yes, wanna come, wanna come,” John babbled, words slurring. Tried to lift his hips to meet Alex’s mouth, was halted by Lafayette’s large hand holding him down. “Please, sir, please, wanna come.” 

“Oh, do you now?” Lafayette's cadence was an invitation. “Well, I think that can be arranged. However, I feel I require _something_ in return, cherie.” 

“God, yes, anything sir, anything.”

“Exactly what I like to hear. So, little one, I will let you come. And, in return, I am the one who gets to deflower you. When you are ready, of course.”

Against him, Alex made a sound of either vehement protest or unbridled enthusiasm. Either way, it was loud and felt amazing. 

“Yes, oh fuck. Yes, Laf, yes sir. Whatever you want, this ass is yours, just let me come!”

 

Lafayette chuckled to himself, pulled Alex up just enough so he could fit his hand around the base of John’s cock. “I like this sound of this,” he mused. “Oh, little one, I am going to _destroy_ you.”

“Destroy me,” John repeated, his voice weak and trembling.

Seconds were all it took, and John was shooting off into Alex’s mouth. Alex groaned like he was given a precious gift, drank it down happily. The next few moments were a blizzard of hands and mouths as Alex turned to Laf, sucked him until he was almost finished then jacked him and himself off in tandem, making a huge mess as they came on John’s thighs. 

Lafayette allowed himself a moment of rest, before he reached up to undo the blindfold. John was still whimpering and shivering, so he gave him a second to adjust before moving on to his cuffs. As soon as he was free he curled into a small ball at the corner of the bed. Alex looked alarmed, but Lafayette tapped him on the arm.

“Here, I have some ideas. Go start the bathtub. Nice and hot. Some clean towels. Put the kettle on as well.”

Alex opened his mouth as if about to argue, because he loved to bask in the afterglow, but after another concerned look at John, he scooted off to follow the directions.

John, still in the fetal position, seemed to not respond when Lafayette curled up against his back. Placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “May I touch you, little one?” John made a small squeaking sound. 

“Oh, darling. Little one. You are so pretty, so precious. Such a good boy for playing with us.” Laf wound an arm around John’s waist, pulled him flush against his body. While John remained silent, Lafayette felt him relax against him. Luckily, Laf had read enough information about aftercare to sort of sense what John might respond to. Up until this point, he’d never had the chance to use this knowledge. Alex preferred to be left alone after an intense scene, needed that time to reset and recalibrate and process. From what Laf knew about John, he inferred that he might need a more attentive approach to aftercare, which he was more than willing to deliver. 

So he started simple. Praise, some cuddles, rubbing John’s arms. “Show me where it hurts, sweet thing,” he said. Quietly snuffling, John shifted. Offered Lafayette his wrists, which were red and chaffed from the cuffs. With careful tenderness, Laf accepted his hands, gently kissed the blooming abrasions. John sniffled a little. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t know why I’m being so weepy.”

“Do not apologize, darling. Give yourself to permission to feel your feelings. Let me know what you need to feel better.”

John snuggled closer, blinked up at Lafayette. “This is nice,” he said. “I like this.”

“Good.” Lafayette kissed the top of his head. “Alexander is making a bath for you. Do you want to soak?” 

Looking down at the sticky mess on his stomach, John snorted a light laugh. “That would be good,” he said. 

Hearing their voices, Alex poked his face into the bedroom. “Guys? Bath’s ready.” Smiled to see the two of them being cute on the bed, afternoon sun slanting through the blinds. “I added some of those stupid lavender bath salts you like.”

“Excellent,” Lafayette replied. Sat up, stretched. Completely shocked John by scooping him up into his arms, plucked him up off the bed. “I do not want my little boy to walk after he was so good for us,” he explained. Carrying John, he followed Alex into the bathroom, which was steamy with the scent of lavender. Carefully, still holding John, he stepped into the bathtube. Together, they sunk into the water. Alex watched in surprise. Lafayette looked at him, smiled. “Will you be joining us?” he asked while John settled against his chest. 

Their tub was a huge whirlpool, more than enough room for the three of them. Alex, feeling slightly envious of the attention Lafayette was lavishing upon John, jockeyed to snuggle up under Laf’s arm. Laf, still smiling at Alex, picked up a loofah. Dipped it in the water, started gently scrubbed at John’s skin. “What is it, mon chou?” 

“I want attention too,” Alex whined. 

Lafayette laughed, deep and throaty, continued to wash John. “My love, when I tried to bathe you after a scene, you cursed me out and locked the door. John needs something different, yes?”

“I guess.” Alex sighed. “It’s just that... You were both _mine_ first. I feel left out.” 

Splashing sound as John shifted to look at him. “I thought... I thought... This is what we all wanted?” he asked in a small voice. “Including you.”

“It is, baby boy. I promise. I guess I’m a little surprised that you want to bottom for Laf first, that’s all. Kinda thought it would be me.”

Without warning, John burst into tears. Sloshed water as he attempted to scramble out of the tub. Lafayette seized him around the waist, pulled him back into the water. “I’m not--Alex..I’m sorry--I didn’t…” He sobbed, tried to wriggle free. 

“Jack,” Alex said soothingly. “Hey, hey I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Lafayette cleared his throat, hugged John to him. “I think it will be important for us to discuss this further when we are all in a better state of mind,” he stated firmly. 

John continued to hiccup, his nose starting to run. Feeling slightly ashamed, Alex’s face went pinched. Silently, he picked up the loofah floating in the water. “Baby boy?” he whispered. “Can I finish washing you?” Face blotchy and tear-streaked, John nodded. 

As soon as his tears dissolved into nothing but tiny whimpers, Lafayette lifted John out of the tub. Pulled one of their giant bath towels from the bar, wrapped it around both of them. Despite Lafayette’s silence, Alex felt chastised and pulled his own towel around him. Without being asked, he disappeared into the laundry room. 

“My love, little one?” John looked up at him. “Can I do your hair?” 

“Yes, please. And... I usually... I have to put lotion. Skin gets dry.”

“I will take care of you, mon cher.” Laf snagged the bottle of moisturizer off the vanity, took John back into the bedroom. 

After about twenty minutes, when John had been thoroughly coated in lotion and his hair wound expertly into a braid, Alex padded back into the bedroom, holding a pair of John’s pajamas. He held them aloft, like a flag in surrender. “I... um. I heated them up in the dryer? I know I like that when it... when it storms.” 

Lafayette smiled at Alex, accepted the clothes, helped John into them. “Are you hungry, love? Tired?”

“Starving,” John said. “Can we order pizza?” 

“Of course!” Lafayette looked over at Alex. “How about you two find a movie for us to watch while call the pizza place?”

Alex returned the smile. “Ok. Just don’t order anything weird on the pizza. Like pineapple and mushrooms, or some other ungodly combination.” 

“Okay,” Lafayette agreed. “Let me get you two cozy on the couch, yes?” 

Once the two of them were settled on the couch, draped in a blanket, Alex looped his arm around John. Alex scrolled through Netflix, John was squirming against him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Are you sure it’s ok I’m here?” John said.

“Of course. Baby, I love you. Laf loves you. We want you here.”

“You said you felt left out. Not what I wanted.”

Alex set the remote down so he could pull John in with both arms. “Ok, that was kind of an immature choice of words. I do love you and Lafayette so much, and while I’m thrilled you guys have clicked, I’m still getting used to seeing you guys be affectionate. Sometimes. I dunno. It still surprises me.”

“I think I understand,” John said after a thoughtful pause. 

“The weird part is I don’t even want aftercare like that. But seeing you guys connect, just the two of you. It did feel weird.”

John shuddered in his arms. “I’m sorry, it won’t let it happen again.”

“No,” Alex said sharply. “Not if it’s what you need. I have to adjust, is all.”

“Maybe. If you helped, would you feel better? Or if you and Laf did something special?”

“Help like this?” Alex squeezed him closer. “I can do that.”


	21. SATURDAY

**SATURDAY**

They slept in Saturday morning. John rose first, went and started the coffee maker. When he came back in with two steaming mugs (black for Alex, cream and sugar for Laf), both of his boyfriends were sitting up, mid-conversation in French.

“I made you guys coffee,” John said softly. Under his arm, he had his own beverage, a bottle of Naked Red Machine juice. Alex’s eyes shone as he accepted the mug. 

“Thank you sweetheart.”

John smiled, settled back into the bed and cracked open his juice. 

“We need to have a conversation,” Alex said. “About last night.”

John sighed. Knew this was coming, welcomed it even, but couldn’t deny the anxiety making his heart flicker. “Okay,” he agreed. 

“John. My love, my darling. I know in the heat of the moment, I asked you an important question, but we must be clear if that was just... Talking because of scene? Or something true in your heart?” Lafayette said all of this directly, but with a bit of a flourish. John couldn’t help but smile at his theatrics.

“Yeah, the scene and all. But before the scene, I had already had been thinking about it.” John shot a slightly guilty look at Alex, surprised to see him looking so receptive. “From an emotional standpoint, I’d be happy for Alex to be my first time. But, from like, a sexual chemistry thing? I can’t deny that bottoming for you, Laf... I’m into it. And just cuz it’s my first, doesn’t mean it’s my only time. I want you too, Alex.”

“John, the mere thought that you would pick me to bestow your gift upon, to deflower you, is _such_ an honor--”

“Quit calling it that, Laf, it’s weird,” Alex snapped. He turned to John. “Sweetie, it was wrong of me to assume anything about you having anal sex. That was presumptuous of me. You’re allowed to decide on whoever you want to tap dat ass first.”

“Oh, so ‘tap dat ass’ is acceptable, but when I try to be romantic and poetic, it is weird?”

“Not only is ‘deflower’ kinda gross sounding, but I mean the concept of virginal worth seeing it as a gift or an honor is extremely problematic, not to mention deeply rooted in misogyny and patriarchal structures? And I feel as men in a queer relationship--”

“Stop, stop stop,” John interrupted, trying not to laugh at the exasperated look on Lafayette’s face. “We get it. Quit killing the mood with feminist theory.” John plopped his juice on the bedside table, stretched like a cat in between them. 

“Excuse me,” Alex said, bending down to peck a kiss on John’s neck. “Feminist theory enhances the mood.”

“Mmm…” John slung his arms around Alex’s neck, pulled him in for a real kiss. “To each his own, I guess.”

Lafayette joined them. “Other thing we must discuss,” he cut in. “We are going to get tested. Today.” 

“Right,” Alex said. “Because while you might not be ready to get your v-card punched... Don’t mean I should have to wait to receive. Am I right?” John huffed a laugh against Alex. “Well! I’ve been patient. Waiting to ride that dick since I met ya.”

“I can’t think of a more perfect way to end the year,” John said. 

“Excellent,” Lafayette said. “I found clinic in midtown that is open on Saturdays.”

John pulled Alex back down to him. “We’ll go in a bit,” he said.

***

The waiting room was surprisingly crowded for the middle of a Saturday around the holidays, but John supposed it was a convenient time for lots of things. They filled out the checklists on clipboards, John flipped through an old copy of National Geographic. He wasn’t nervous exactly, knew he had always been careful, would be honestly surprised if anything came up. When the nurse called them back though (Alex had requested they go together), he did feel a little fluttery.

First they took turns in the bathroom, peeing into cups and placing them in them in the small cubby as instructed. After, they were directed to the lab for part two. 

“Alright, boys, who’s up first?” The nurse had a pleasant voice, and the snap of her latex gloves was satisfying. “Any of you nervous sticks?”

“Sticks?” Lafayette said. He said something quick and sharp to Alex in French.

“They are drawing blood, babe.” Alex’s cadence was calm. 

Lafayette’s face went ashen. “Draw... My blood?” 

 

Alex giggled. “Well, what did you think?” 

“I thought... I do not know. Perhaps look at me closely? Ask for a semen sample?”

“Gotta go to the sperm bank for that kinda treatment, sugar,” the nurse said. “You go first. Sit.”

Growing even paler, Lafayette settled into the chair. He covered his face with his fist, scrunched his eyes shut, muttered in French. “Hey,” Alex said, pushed up the sleeve on his left arm. “It’s ok Laf, we got you.” 

John went to Laf’s other side, crouched and took his hand. He was no stranger to fear, and knew sometimes the best thing you could do for someone who was scared was just be with them. Lafayette made a high little peep as the needle went in. One vial of blood later, the nurse withdrew the needle, was applying pressure. More heaving sounds from Laf, and he continued to whimper in French. 

“Big baby,” Alex teased, but John shot him a look. The nurse shuffled off, returned with a can of Cherry Coke. 

“Drink,” she said, offering him the can. “You look peaked. Can’t have you fainting now.”

Weakly, even though he generally refused soda, Lafayette took the can. His hands were shaking so John popped the top for him. “Sip, honey,” he said. 

Alex’s blood draw went much smoother. Lafayette sat slumped in a chair while he went, leaning his head on John’s hip. Alex and John switched places, and in less than a half hour, their blood samples were sent to the lab to be analyzed. 

“You’ll get an email,” the nurse explained. 

“What’s the turnaround?” Alex asked. Gave John another look, this one on the suggestive side.

“You’ll hear by Monday.”

“New Years Eve,” John said softly. Smiled back at Alex.

Laf was still looking pretty sick, so Alex agreed to splurge on a cab back to the apartment. 

He said something in French to Alex, sipped his soda. “What’s he say?” John asked.

Alex snorted. “Said your ass better be worth this.”

John rolled his eyes, watched the snow studded city zip by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr @likearootlesstree where I accept bribed in the form ficlets and fanart to post more chapters.
> 
> Comments are wonderful too!


	22. NEW YEARS EVE

**NEW YEARS EVE**

If Herc’s Halloween party had been a blowout, it was nothing compared to his New Year’s Eve party. It was incredible how many people Herc managed to cram into his apartment, dozens and dozens of revellers, girls in sequins and sparkles, guys dressed up in sleek outfits, a lot of people wearing those goofy “2013” glasses. Alex made John and Laf both put on a pair, took an indeterminate amount of selfies. 

Drinks flowed freely, but John nursed his same beer throughout the night. From the glittering, suggestive looks Alex kept throwing his way, John knew he wanted to stay sober, that the real party would begin after midnight, when they made it back home. The emails had come in earlier that morning, all three testing negative for STIs. “Yeeeeah, bareback for me tonight!” Alex had cheered.

Lafayette, too, it seemed was being conservative with his drinks, had stuck to sips of champagne. The three of them spent most of the night mingling, talking with friends, taking pictures, snacking on the munchies. Peggy was much warmer to him than the last time they had seen each other, slinging her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. “Johnny boy, so glad you’re back!” She crowed, splashing some of her cocktail on his blazer. 

Angelica and her husband held court in the corner. She had baked a batch of “special cupcakes” that she kept trying to get Alex and John to try. “Avoid them,” Alex said urgently. “Knowing Angelica, could be laced with anything from pot to LSD.” Eliza had came with a date, a tall man with light brown hair who worked for the New York Fire Department. While watching the couple snuggled on the couch, Herc stood near the keg, glowering. 

“Ohhh, wonder if there’s gonna be a fight?” Alex whispered to John excitedly. John sincerely hoped not. 

Lafayette, who had added a rainbow feather boa and sparkly top hat to his ensemble, appeared just in time for the countdown. 

“How are we gonna do this?” John asked nervously. Didn’t want anyone to feel left out of the midnight kiss.

“Oh, oh. We could kiss our hands and high five?” Alex suggested. 

The look on Lafayette’s face was skeptical. “I want a real kiss.” He switched over to French, and Alex was nodding in agreement. 

“Ok, yeah I like that. Come here, Jack.” They claimed a spot on the couch, sat John in the middle. Everyone in the room had paused what they were doing, held champagne glasses aloft, faces turned to the big screen tv showing the Times Square Ball Drop. Thirty seconds to go and Lafayette took his right hand, Alex his left. They joined in counting down at ten seconds.

When they reached midnight, Lafayette and Alex each planted a kiss on either of his cheeks, then kissed a short path to his lips. They took turns kissing his lips softly, then kissed each other. After a few heated seconds, Lafayette pulled away, the tackled them both, and the kissing turned more into making out. They got away with it for about three minutes before Hercules was yelling at them from across the crowd, “GET A ROOM, HAMILTON!” 

Alex surfaced long enough to shout back. “HOW’S IT MY FAULT?!”

“IT’S ALWAYS YOUR FAULT.”

People in the room tittered with laughter, and as Alex tried to sit up to retaliate, Laf held him back against the couch. “Not now, mon chou. We have... more important things to attend to.” At his words, Alex’s expression morphed from annoyed to naughty. 

It was almost like deja vu. Putting on their coats, waiting for a cab out in the cold on Herc’s block. The almost eerie familiarity didn’t pass any of their notice and they exchanged a few shy glances. “Shall I pick you up and carry you again, for old time’s sake?” Lafayette joked. John blushed and shook his head, tried to relax but it was hard with Alex pushing up against his front, soft and smelling good. 

In the dark of the backseat of the cab, there was a sense of tension, a current of something electric. Their mouths met softly, hands over denim, cupping between legs. Alex seemed to make it his goal to get John has hard as possible before they pulled up to their building, and was doing a particularly thorough job, squeezing John’s length through his jeans. John could feel himself leaking into his boxer briefs, tried with little success to stop himself from panting. Glad the driver had shut the partition. 

A strange feeling settled over them, thrumming hot and powerful, a magnetic pull to the bedroom, to shed their clothes and stretch out naked across the bed, to continue kissing and touching. A few heated presses of their bodies, and Alex was reaching for the lube. 

“Wanna do the honors?” he asked John, tilting the bottle towards him.

John swore under his breath, let Alex drip some of the lube into his hand. Worked it around to warm it. Went to part Alex’s cheeks with his free hand, but Lafayette interrupted. 

“My darlings,” he said. “I know this is a special moment for the two of you, and if you would like some privacy, I am more than happy to give you some alone time.”

Head cocked, John regarding Lafayette, gorgeous and naked and hard in the moonlight. “No, honey. Want you to watch.”

Lafayette inhaled, then laughed quietly. “Is that so? You little exhabitionst!” 

“Perhaps. And I mean, Alex won’t wanna just go for one round, right?”

“Mmm,” Alex chimed in. “Yeah, babe. Want you to plow me after. Show Jacky what he’s in for.”

Instead of laughing, the thought made John moan. Alex grabbed his wrist guided his hand back. Moaned when John worked one finger in, canted his hips and encouraged John to press further in. John used his free hand to play with Alex’s hair, pull him down for more kissing. Savored the sound Alex made into his mouth when he added a second finger. 

Laf, sitting cross-legged parallel to them, watched in fascination. Stroked himself idly, his head tilted in curiosity. “He can take three, John. For your size, I’d recommend it.” Alex giggled into John’s mouth. 

John had hardly just added a third finger, stretching and preparing Alex as quickly as he could without hurting him, but then Alex was batting away his hand, reaching for the lube so he could coat John’s cock. Shifted in John’s lap, tossed his hair and smiled down at him. “Ready for me to rock your world?” 

“Corny,” John said, but he grinned. Alex reached back, arched, held John vertical. Sat back in small increments, took John inch by inch, flexing his muscles just so, making John groan with the feeling of it. It took a full minute before John was in as far has he could go, the meat of Alex’s ass flush against John’s thighs. Immediately, John braced his feet on the bed, went to adjust and start thrusting, biting back the scream collecting in this lungs. 

“I don’t think so, baby boy,” Alex said. Pitched forward, pinned each of John’s wrists to the mattress. “If I’m on top, I’m in charge. _Comprende_?”

Unable to answer in words, John simply whined. 

“Good. This is my dick, you hear? _Quiero que sufras como un esclavo en la cama y no puedas escapar._ ” 

“Christ, Alex!” John said in surprise. “ _Quiero que sientas mi pene adentro de tu ano bien duro._ ” Hearing the Spanish fall from John’s lips had Alex clenching down on him again, lifting and dropping himself slowly, John so slippery inside of him. 

“Oh, naughty things, I want to hear what you are saying,” Laf implored. Alex laughed. 

“Taste of your own medicine,” John spat, but not meanly. 

Alex hitched his hips, started to speed up his rhythm. In all of the dozens of fantasies John had of Alex, since meeting him last spring, nothing would ever compare to him in the flesh. The pretty way he tossed his hair out of his eyes. The tense play of his muscles in abdomen and thighs. The hot, satin drag of his hole up and down his cock, now throbbing in time with his heartbeat. The look in his eyes as he gazed down at John, like he had never seen something so wonderful in his life. 

“You’re a dream, baby boy,” Alex mused. “Big, thick, and so fucking deep. God, yes…” He continued to ride, gripped John’s wrists tighter, ground himself harder on him. Every moment he was inside Alex was exquisite, and better than anything was the way Alex looked at him as he eked every iota of pleasure from him. Alex’s face oscillated between lost in bliss and looking at John adoringly. “You gonna come? Want your load deep in my ass.”

“Want you to come first,” John countered. Another laugh from Alex. 

“Yeah? I think I can make that happen.” He adjusted slightly, changed the angle. 

“Wanna feel you spasm around my dick,” John growled. “Want your cum all over my stomach.”

“Goooood lord, Jack. You’re so nasty.” 

“You bring it out in me.”

Alex huffed another laugh, twisted his hips, bore down. Fucked himself back a few more times, face screwed up in concentration. “Keep... Talking…” He implored, digging down harder. “And for the love of fuck, stay hard.”

“You’re so pretty on my dick, baby girl. Bouncing on my cock until it hurts, right honey? Gonna come on my dick, then I’m gonna fill your little ass, then I’m gonna hand you over to Laf, watch him wreck you.” 

Lafayette, who had been surprisingly quiet, save for the slick sound of his hand on himself, added his own thoughts. “Oh, yes, my love, John is going to get you nice and messy, and then I am going to show him the other way you like it.”

“Yeah, show John how much I can fucking take--” Alex’s voice went high in the last syllable, his dick twitched and with a loud sigh, he was popping off, thick globs of cum dribbling down his cock and landing in splashes on John’s stomach. 

Watching the display, the flush the crawled up Alex’s neck, his heaving chest, his lips parted in a satisfied moan... immediately John’s own orgasm bunched up in his groin, wound as tightly as a spring. “Ah, Jack,” Alex said, relaxing his grip on John’s wrists. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck me. _Damelo duro, Pequeña._ ” John choked on his moan, took the lead and thrusted up into Alex, chasing his moist warmth and his own building orgasm, Alex continuing to babble in a mix of English, French and Spanish, an urgent pastiche of want. 

“God, Alex, I love you,” John burst out, and his orgasm raced through him, flooded his senses and swooped through his stomach, feeling himself shake and deposit his cum deep inside Alex. He held himself there as he rode out his orgasm, clutched Alex around the waist. Tears pricked his eyes, and he repeated the sentiment. “I love you so much.” Voice hushed, heart thunking in his chest. 

Alex cupped his palm against John’s cheek, locked eyes. “I love you too, John Laurens. So fucking much.” Took a few moments of staring, kissing, nuzzling until Alex eased off him, collapsed into the mattress next to him, both of them feeling overwhelmed. Laf nudged his way in, claimed a kiss of his own from each of them. Spoke soft French to Alex, then whispered in John’s ear. “I also love you, little one.”

“Love you too,” John returned. More kisses. John and Laf took some time to run their hands over Alex, watching smugly as he grew hard again under their touch. As Lafayette pulled Alex to his knees, pressed his torso into the mattress, John stretched out lengthwise, happy and ready to enjoy watching the two of them together. Before this moment, he might have assumed seeing Alex and Laf together like this would make him jealous, but now that was unfolding in front of him, there was nothing in his heart but affection for the two of them. Getting to witness two men that he loved pleasure one another was just joy, pure and simple. 

“How you gonna give it to him?” John asked. Alex moaned into the pillow--he adored hearing his boyfriends talk about him.

“The way he likes it, little one. Rough and relentless.” 

Lafayette was as good as his word. As he slid home, Alex made a high keening sound, pushed back into him. He wasn’t even moving yet and Alex jerked his hips, twisted his hands into the sheets, and was gasping “harder, harder” while he waited. Lafayette held himself still for two beats, then retracted until just his tip was inside Alex, then slammed in with such force Alex wailed unabashedly into the pillow.

“More,” Alex breathed when Laf didn’t immediately thrust again. “More, c’mon Laf…” Flat hand came down on the side of his thigh, swatted him quiet. 

“Do _not_ tell me what to do,” Lafayette said slowly. His voice was even, not mean, but held a hint of danger. He paused for another second, Alex squirming and whining against him. John was intrigued at how Alex reacted to Laf, how he didn’t quite submit but he also didn’t have the upper hand either. He felt himself growing aroused at the sight, at how large and thick his cock looked where it entered Alex, at the pretty contrast of their skin tones, at how small Alex looked against Lafayette, how submissive. 

The moment of quiet was over. Lafayette pulled out and drilled back into him, found a pace and committed to it, a quick and unforgiving pace that had Alex bawling, gnawing the pillow, crying at what was a dichotomous cocktail of delight and discomfort. The sounds he was making had John very interested, almost glowing with the sight. “Hands on the headboard,” Lafayette suddenly ordered, he himself taking Alex by the hips. Grumbling, Alex did as told, grabbed two of the wooden bars. HIs knuckles paled from the strength of his grip. 

“What?” Alex spat over his shoulder. “Afraid I’m gonna fight back?”

Lafayette giggled, his voice high and condescending. “I am never afraid of that, mon chou. I do not want you touching yourself like a greedy little whore. If you want to come, you need to come on my dick.”

“Tall order for how soft and easy you’re giving to me.”

“Is that so?” Lafayette accelerated his hips, hitched Alex’s ass up higher, pressed down on the small of his back. “Then I guess you are not coming again.”

“Like I fucking care.”

John was taken aback at how they were speaking to each other, the slightly snarly banter. There was no denying he saw the appeal of being in either position. To be kneeling behind Alex, hearing him taunt and tease and ultimately give in as he plowed him, watching the soft flesh of his thighs and ass jiggle with each thrust. Or, better yet, to be under Lafayette... he wouldn’t want to hold the headboard, would prefer Lafayette to collect his wrists behind him, hold him still. He wouldn’t mouth off like Alex, no, he’d be good. He’d beg if Lafayette wanted it, beg and cry and--

“Little one, are you... Enjoying what you see?” Lafayette tossed him a grin. Eyes flicked down to where John had grown hard from a combination of his thoughts and the show unfolding in front of him. John squeaked, cupped himself almost shyly. “Excellent. Stay hard for me, mon cher, I am going to suck you until you cry when I am done with dear Alexander.”

“You might finish faster if you quit babbling and actually fucked me,” Alex snapped. Lafayette spanked him this time, a few annoyed smacks right on his ass. Alex moaned and pushed back against Laf, met him stroke for stroke. Lafayette said a few things in French, oscillating between sharp and soothing tones. 

The speed changed. Lafayette stilled his hips, the two of them notched together, and he reached around Alex, took his fattened cock in hand and massaged, worked him root to tip. Alex wriggled his hips, either in a bid to get away or to increase the stimulation on his prostate, and Lafayette allowed it, even canted his hips in small tight movements to offer some assistance. “C’mon, c’mon babe, fuck me, c’mon!” Alex instigated, teeth clenched, hands wrenching at the headboard.

Instead, Lafayette, humming to himself, stroked Alex off, had him coming in under a minute. His orgasm rocked him, had him writhing and cursing. Alex immediately tried to slump into the bed, to bask in his afterglow, but Lafayette held him prone. “No, no, stop, no,” Alex babbled, twisting in Lafayette’s grip. “You jackass, fucking, arghhh!” Alex crumpled in on himself, and Lafayette refused to let his dick go, continued to rub and pull. 

“Color check?” Lafayette asked so quietly John almost didn’t hear it, but then Alex was yowling.

“Green, green you motherfucker, you gonna fuck me or keep pussy footing around it?” 

A quick breath of silence, then Lafayette was rocking him, pounding into him, fucking him so hard John worried Alex might break. A stream of curses fell from Alex’s lips, and he thrashed, only pausing in his struggle, shaking as another orgasm, this one dry, overtook him. 

This third orgasm seemed to do it for Lafayette, his hips were stuttering and John watched his face, loved the look of complete surrender there as he gave into the bliss that was Alex’s body. Lafayette said something in French, voice low, ran his hands soothingly over the small of Alex’s back. 

Alex squirmed away, curled up in the duvet, an extreme look of sated smugness on his face. Titled his face up for a kiss from Lafayette, then snuggled into the pillows, his eyes sparkling in the lamplight. Lafayette caught his breath, then pounced on John. 

“Love when you are hard for me, little one,” he said and swallowed John. Alex smirked at both of them, his turn to watch John be taken apart, two loves of his life coming together in the best of ways.


	23. EARLY JANUARY

**EARLY JANUARY**

Everything started falling into place. John practically moved into Alex’s and Lafayette’s apartment, only stopping at home for clothes or other items, and staying every night at their place. They picked up their routine as soon as Alex went back to work. Lafayette started a new job with a catering company and John picked up two new projects, so their days were all busy. Evenings, though, belonged to them. Cozy evenings in, cooking dinner, watching TV, keeping house. The sort of quiet, predictable life John had dreamt about. Cozy evenings turned into sultry nights, the quiet only broken by moans of passion, words of devotion.

They celebrated Alexander’s birthday the way he liked best: a low-key dinner at his favorite Indian restaurant followed by a round of cock warming while he finished up an article he was editing. He said he didn’t want any presents, so John wrote him a heartfelt letter instead, poured as much of his feelings into it as he could. As Alex read it over his plate of butter chicken, tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. As soon as he got home, he tucked the letter into the journal John gave him for Christmas. 

Occasionally, when they wanted to get out, they would hit the club. Alex and Lafayette had a favorite gay club in their neighborhood, and couldn’t resist bringing John dancing, showing him off. John spent several evenings, his backside to either of his boyfriends, rocking to the beat of whatever stupid pop song was blasting through the speakers. Dancing with them was so different. Alex liked to match him move for move, winding around him like a serpent, doing his best to put on a show. Lafayette, on the other hand, preferred to keep his own movements minimal, let John grind on his front while he ran his hands possessively over his body, alternating between cupping him through his jeans and pulling his shirt up just enough to give the other club goers a peek at John’s abs. “I like the way they stare at you, little one. I like having what others want.” Words warm and breathy in John’s ear.

One such night, after John had been passed from Alex to Lafayette and back, he broke away from the dance, pecked a kiss on Alex’s cheek, and headed to the bar. There was a bit of a wait, so he slid onto one of the bar stools, content to people watch while he waited for the bartender. While he was watching a rather cute Asian guy flirting with some older dude in a suit, a stranger slid into the barstool next to him.

“Seat taken?” 

John regarded the stranger. A baby-faced brunette in his mid twenties. Well dressed, maybe on the flashy side. Giving John the once over. 

“All yours,” John said.

“You’re quite cute,” the stranger said, but something in his voice sounded cold instead flirty.

“Thanks, but I’m taken,” John replied breezily, liking the way the sentiment rolled off his tongue with ease. The guy next to him snorted.

“Oh I know. Believe me, John Laurens, I know.” 

“I’m sorry but... do I know you?” John was quite taken aback by the man knowing his name, and the icy way he was speaking to him.

“No. I don’t imagine you would know me. I’m John. John Andre.”

John extended his hand, unfailingly polite. “Nice to meet you.”

Andre’s smile twisted into a sardonic grin. “Wish I could return the sentiment. So tell me, John Laurens, you having fun playing house with those two?” Andre titled his glass in the direction where Laf and Alex were, dancing together off to the side. “Hamilton and the esteemed Marquis?”

“Look, I’m kinda getting a vibe here that--”

“That what?” Andre leaned closer, that awful smirk still on his face. “That I seem familiar to you? I should, even though we’ve never met.” While John stared at him in confusion, Andre laughed, a terrible taunting sound. “I’m you. From a year ago!”

 

John said nothing, just regarded Andre. Andre stirred his drink, seemed to enjoy the aura of discomfort that had settled over the conversation. 

“Look, let me tell you something, John Laurens. Those two? They’re like fucking vampires. There isn’t anyone they care about except themselves and each other. It’s like a game to them. They pick up some pretty boy, screw around with him for a few weeks, then drop him like a bad habit. And seems as if you are their newest plaything.”

Still silent, John studied his hands, Andre’s words taking root in his imagination. 

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?” He giggled, sipped his drink. “How sad for you. You thought you were special? Different? Oh my gosh!” His tone changed to something sarcastic and over concerned. “You _actually_ believed they had _feelings_ for you? This is rich. My lord. You’re definitely their type in terms of looks, but they usually pick ones with brains too.” Andre tutted to himself, pushed his empty glass away on the bar. 

John’s stomach had dropped out, and he suddenly didn’t feel like ordering anything for himself anymore. Andre must have noted his change in demeanor, because he softened his tone, but still couldn’t hide the sarcastic edge. “You poor boy. I’m so sorry. Look, it sucks, but you’ll be fine. My advice to you? Enjoy the great sex while you can, just be ready for the bottom to fall out, no hard feelings, right?”

“Right,” John finally said. “Th-thanks.” Without ordering, John excused himself. Went and found his coat. Made his way outside, slumped into a bench absently. Could it be true? Could he just be another in a long line of thirds? Auxiliary lovers caught temporarily in their orbit, assimilated for just a short time, long enough to get hooked, get a taste? And then, once the inevitable boredom set in, be discarded like all the others? 

It only took a few minutes of him sitting in silence before Alex and Laf burst out of the club, looking confused. 

“There you are, baby!” Alex said. Flopped down on the bench next to him, cuddled close for a kiss. John patted him returned the kiss, albeit not as passionately as usual. Alex looked at him strangely, then the three headed down to the subway. Lafayette was too buzzed to notice anything amiss, but Alex was watching John with the intensity of a hawk. John was lost in his own world, the sudden swell of anxiety scrambling any rational thoughts. How much longer did he have with them? It had been what... Three weeks since Christmas? How long until they got bored? Would they both tire of him at that same time? He knew this was all too good to be true. How fucking stupid was he to really believe--

“Mon cher?” Lafayette tugged on his hand. “We are at our stop.”

As they ascended the staircase, Alex looked back at John. “Are you sure you’re ok, Jack?” 

“M’fine. Tired.” 

“Okay…” Alex didn’t sound convinced.

Was it already happening? Was Alex getting sick of him? Upon entering their apartment, John mumbled something about taking a shower. Not wanting to be alone, while grabbing fresh pajamas, he collected his stuffed turtle (which he had christened ‘Pokey’) to sit on the counter while he showered. 

Once the bathroom door was shut, instead of stripping and hopping in the shower, John hugged Pokey to his chest, crawled into the bathtub started crying, his cries coming out in quiet, sharp stabs. This couldn’t end. This is exactly what he was afraid of. The twin siren songs of pain and fear sunk their hooks into him, and he folded in on himself, clutching Pokey like he was a life preserver. 

John cried until his head hurt, until his lips felt dried out. Cutting through his sobs, suddenly, was Alex’s voice. “John, baby? I’m coming in? I’m worried, don’t hear the water…” Alex’s arm, pulled back the shower curtain. “John? What’s wrong?”

At the sound of his voice, John turned his face up to Alex. Tear-stained, flushed, nose running. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Papi.” He sniffled, squeezed Pokey closer. “Is it ‘cause I haven’t let you fuck me yet? If--if I let you, will you let me stay? Please don’t make me leave, Papi. Please…” John ducked his head, unable to say anything else. His body shook with the force of his crying. Alex stared down at his boyfriend, miserable and lost and clearly in pain, unclear what to do. 

“Lafayette?” He called. “Can you come here please?”

“Yes, mon chou, what--John? Oh, my love, whatever is wrong?” Lafayette fell to his knees beside the tub, not daring to touch John without his permission, but spoke low to him. “Why is my little one crying?” 

John just shook his head and cried harder. 

“He said something about... Us making him leave... Because he hasn’t let us fuck him yet?”

Lafayette looked at Alex, puzzlement on his face. Mouth forming silent words as he pondered the information Alex provided. He caught Alex’s eye. “I did not think it important, but I did see... Andre... At the club tonight. He was talking to John at the bar, but I thought nothing of it.”

“Andre? That asshole? John!” Alex said sharply. “John, did some puffed up twink named John Andre talk to you at the bar? What the fuck did he say to you?”

“Alexander! Do not yell at him!” Lafayette admonished, noting how hard John continued to cry. 

“I swear to god, that jackass, always fucking stirring up drama. It’s been over a year why can’t he just let it go?”

Lafayette ignored Alex for the moment, turned back to John. “Mon cherie? May I touch you?” Once John nodded, Laf climbed into the dry tub with him, wrapped his arms around John’s shoulders. “There, there, my love, it is ok. We are here. Shhh.” Laf rocked him back and forth, and slowly John relaxed, his cries quieted. “Can you tell us what happened?”

John took several shuddery, grounding breaths. “That man. Bad man. Talked to me.” John’s voice had gone higher than his normal voice, akin to how he sounded when feeling submissive in the bedroom. But this was clearly not that. He sounded younger, vulnerable, and very, very sad. 

“I know he did, sweet thing. Can you tell me and Papi what he said?” 

John was leaning so far forward, the tears dripping off his face made a soft pattering sound on the floor of the tub. He was holding Pokey as close as possible to avoid dribbling any of the mess onto him. He hiccupped. “Told me... He told me. Told me... You guys. You guys get bored. Gonna get rid of me.” 

Alex cursed under his breath. Rubbed his eyes. “Motherfucking... Meddler. Can’t mind his own business…”

“Said you two love each other. No one else. And me... I’m good for... For sex?” John wiped his nose, looked up at Alex. “Please don’t make me leave, Papi.”

“No, sweetie, no I would never... we want you here.”

“Then why... That bad man said... You get bored. Pick up... Pretty boys like me. It’s a game.” 

Alex was pacing the small bathroom, clearly heated. “Why? What does he even hope to accomplish. He makes no fucking sense. Yeah, upsetting our boyfriend, does he think you’re gonna think that’s hot or something, Laf? Gonna welcome him back with open arms? Makes no damn sense. I oughtta go back to the club, punch that fucking idiot in his stupid fucking face. What an asshole, who even does this--”

“Alexander. Please. Getting arrested for assault will not help John. He needs you here.”

“Yeah, well, Andre is a fucking threat to my well being, second time he’s tried to take something of mine.”

Lafayette’s eyes flashed, and he gave Alex a stern look. “Alexander. It is not always about you. Andre has hurt all three of us. Now, I need you to put your anger aside so you can be here for John. Do I make myself plain?” 

Alex stopped in his tracks, like a wind up toy with its motor run out. Grumbled to himself for a moment. “What... Do you need me to do. Are you planning on sleeping in the bathtub?”

“Of course not. John?”

“Jacky,” John said quietly.

“All right then, Jacky. Are you ready to get out of the bathtub? We can get on your pajamas?”

“Can Pokey come?” 

“Of course, little one, of course. Here, before we go, can I wash your face? Can Papi hold Pokey while I do that?” 

John pouted while he thought it through. Reluctantly, he passed the stuffed turtle to Alex. Nodded. Lafayette scooped John into his arms, carried him over to the vanity and set him gently on the counter. Grabbing a washcloth from the basket they kept on the shelf above the sink, he ran it under the tap, brought it John’s face. As gently as he could, he dabbed at the dried tears and snot. John’s eyes drifted closed, as if hypnotized by the attention. “My beautiful little boy,” Lafayette breathed as he wiped away the mess. “Do you want to hear the real story of Andre?”

Thought about it for a moment. Then John nodded.

“Ok. Last year, we met John Andre. And yes, we did bring him home, went on some dates. We did have sex. However... It was not serious, nothing true…”

“Tell the whole story, Laf,” Alex snipped. “Tell him that he got obsessed with you. Convinced himself that you were in love with him, and the only thing standing in the way of you two being together was me? That he tried to _break us up_?”

Lafayette sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. The sound of Alex’s ranting, loud and angry, made John flinch. A single tear leaked out of John’s eye, ran a track down his cheek. Lafayette wiped it away. “The way Andre say this to you, he is incorrect. It did not happen like that. And you... are nothing like him. Jacky, how long we wait for you? Months. We want you here. In every way. Now, let us get you changed, nice and cozy, yes?” John nodded, let Lafayette carry him to the bedroom where John had started piling his clean clothes in the master closet.

Once John was in his pajamas, he accepted Pokey back from Alex. “Can I have a snack?” he whispered. “Before bed?”

“Yes, my darling.” Lafayette picked him up again, carried him to the kitchen, Alex trailing behind. This was not the way he wanted the evening to end, with John upset and needing something like aftercare, Lafayette’s full attention on him. No, Alex had envisioned being pinned between his boyfriends, getting fucked or sucked until he could collapse in a restful, cuddly sleep. 

“What would you like as bedtime snack?”

“Umm... Cereal? Froot Loops?”

Alex’s thoughts of anger melted away, however, as he watched the care and tenderness Lafayette treated John with. How he found the box of Froot Loops in the cupboard, grabbed a bowl, spoon, and milk from the fridge. Once the cereal was poured, he sat down next to John and actually spooned it for him, fed him the cereal. Ok, Alex’s heart got a little quivery at the display, at John clinging to his turtle and opening his mouth like a baby bird while Lafayette carefully spooned Froot Loops into his mouth. It was cute and soothing, and not only seemed to comfort John but console Laf as well, distracted him from the nonsense that was John Andre. 

He took the seat opposite of them. John was almost done with his cereal. “Jacky? Baby boy?” John looked up from where he was staring at his turtle. “You gotta know, how we feel about you... It’s nothing like Andre... Or anyone else, ok? We love you. We. Love. You. Please, please don’t doubt that.”

Tears welled in John’s eyes again and Laf shot Alex a look for upsetting him. But then John was sliding off his own chair and into Alex’s lap, curling into his chest. “Papi... Love you too, Papi. Love you too.” Hesitantly, Alex pet his unruly curls, rubbed his back. “Please keep me, please let me stay.”

“Let you stay? We’re making you stay.” Alex tickled him, kissed at his neck. “You’re ours now, ok?” He managed to get John to giggle a little. “There, there’s Jacky’s pretty smile. You wanna go get ready for bed?”

John smiled wider and nodded. Together, they brushed their teeth, faces washed. Once they we were settled into bed though, John was wriggling in between them, grabbing at Alex’s waist, pushing his bottom against Lafayette’s groin. “You wanna?” He teased, still in his little voice. “Wanna fuck me? Fuck my ass?”

Lafayette sternly prised John off of him, wrapped him in his arms against his chest. “Not tonight, my love.” John pouted, threatened to cry again.

“Okay,” he exhaled. In his mind it made sense. He had to give them what he hadn’t yet, so they’d let him stay. If they didn’t want him, what would happen? Without meaning to, he started to whimper, fidget in the sheets. 

“What is it?” Alex said with a hint of impatience. “Why are you being such a wiggle worm?”

“You... You don’t want me?” John frowned. Started crying again. 

Lafayette had the patience of a saint, Alex noted. Where as he was ready to launch into an argument, explain to the John the hundreds of reasons why it wasn’t true, that of course they wanted him, stop blubbering and go to sleep, Lafayette just cuddled him closer, kissed the top of his head. “Always want you, little one. But right now, when you are stressed and sad, it is not a good idea for us to have sex. Does not mean you are unwanted. We love you very much.”

John didn’t respond, continued to tremble with his tears. He cried in silence, Lafayette rubbing soothing circles into his back. The blanket twisted in Alex’s hands. He hated to witness John in pain, frustrated with himself that he didn’t have the emotional reserves to comfort him. That frustration was boiling into anger, and he felt it vibrating in his blood. Even though it was two in the morning and Alex wanted to roam the streets until he found Andre so he could kick him into next--

“I can hear you thinking, Alexander.” Lafayette kept his words low. John had fallen asleep on his chest. In the darkness, Alex could barely make out his face rising and falling in time with Laf’s breathing. “Tell me what you are feeling.”

“Confused. Frustrated. Angry.” Alex cleared his throat, let his hand find Lafayette’s in the blanket. Squeezed it comfortingly. “Confused because I’ve never seen John like that. Frustrated because I don’t know how to help him when he’s in that state. Angry because of fucking Andre. How did he even know John? Is he watching us.”

Lafayette couldn’t help but laugh a little. John stirred but did not wake. “Perhaps he saw your inspired performance on the dance floor with him.”

“Ok, but it’s creepy, regardless. What an ass.” Alex dropped his voice. “Sorry. We just... We just got him here. I don’t want to lose him. Because some fuckface like Andre put stupid shit in his head.”

“He is not stupid, mon chou. He will not leave. He just needs reassurance.”

“So why is he all... Wonky tonight?”

Lafayette blew out a breath. Despite be younger than both of his lovers, there were some things he just got and was just better at than them. Understanding people, especially those he was close to, was one of those things. “Not wonky. John is someone, who, when stressed or scared, has ways of self soothing. Reverting to a younger mindstate is how he processes. You get angry, take action against those who have wronged you. It is two different ways of dealing with the same things.”

Alex smiled in the dark, brought Laf’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Here I was thinking I was dating you for your big dick and roguish good looks. But nope, you gotta outsmart me too.”

Another chuckle. “I am just happy he trusts us enough to take care of him when he is like this.”

“Me too. Course, you hadda go and cock block me.”

“Alexander…”

“I know, I know.” Alex had the urge now to touch John. Tucked some hair behind his ear. “Do you think he’ll be ok in the morning?”

“I do,” Lafayette said. “And if not, we will be here for him.”


	24. LATE JANUARY

**LATE JANUARY**

The John Andre incident, while painful as it unfolded, succeeded in only one way: It brought the three of them closer together. The morning after, when John woke up upset, but clear headed, they were able to have a frank discussion about what actually happened with Andre, and why John was completely different. John didn’t have to take their word at face value it, because the proof of such sentiments lived in other ways.

It lived in the moment they synced their google calendars, which included meal planning and chore rotations. It lived in the group text they created on iMessage, which ended up being a laundry list of to dos, jokes, gifs, memes, links and little love notes throughout the day. It lived in making Alex coffee every morning, kissing him before he left for work, and getting to snuggle another hour in bed with Lafayette before either of their days started. It lived in wrestling over the remote, grumbling about the laundry and unloading the dishwasher, making the bed together, putting away groceries. It lived in how Alex would forget to charge his kindle, so Lafayette or John would remember to do it for him before they left for the day. It lived in the long showers Lafayette took, singing at the top of his lungs until the hot water ran out. 

It lived in every moment of every day that John spent with them, every word, every touch, every thing, small and large, that unfolded with the graceful, predictable tempo of each passing hour. John Laurens had never been happier in all his life. He was finally home.

Two things happened in the latter half of January. The first thing was John more or less moved in with Alex and Lafayette. There was no official moment or discussion, but one Sunday when John realized he was out of clean underwear, he realized he had no desire to return to his own loft. “I don’t wanna leave,” he said, out of the blue, over the episode of House Hunters they were watching. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Mon cher,” Lafayette said. “You are home.” 

The second thing that happened was that John decided, with unequivocal certainty, that he wanted to try anal sex, sooner rather than later. When he broached the subject with his boyfriends, they were cautious at first.

“Are you sure?” Alex asked nervously. “You’re not just like... doing it because you feel like you have to?”

Lafayette just looked at him, brown eyes piercing. 

“Of course I’m sure.” John swallowed back his nerves. He trusted these men, he loved them, there was no need for fear. “Alexander, it’s something I’ve always wanted, I just hadn’t met the man... Or men... I wanted to try it with. I trust you both so, so much, and want that experience with you both.” He paused, squeezed Alex’s hand which was resting in his lap. “And I want my... My very first time, to be with Laf. Alex, you and I had a lot of firsts together, and the two of you had a lot of firsts together, so it just seems right that we would have something. First.” 

John waited, hoped for the best.

“I have... Questions,” Alex said. “First, do I get to be there for it? Second, have you thought about positions, and like, setting? When? Third of all, I think we need a game plan of getting you ready, since you’ve never had anything up there. Fourth--”

“Alexander. Be quiet for just a moment.” They were cuddled up on the couch, and Laf had to lean around Alex to look at John properly. “My love, I just want to be sure. This is what you want?”

“I am absolutely certain about it.”

The sides of Lafayette’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and he pulled John into a chaste kiss. As they broke apart, Alex made an impatient sound. “Can I talk _now_?”

John, who felt ready that second to move things to the bedroom, what with the way Lafayette was looking at him, nodded. 

“So like I said, can I be there?”

“Of course.” John looked at him like he was crazy. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I dunno. Just checking. Ok, so um. Like I said. I really think we need a plan. Like John, not to be crass, but like, you’re gonna have to work up to Laf? Like, we can’t go storming out the gate with him just fucking you raw. That would be a huge mistake. So I think we should come up with a plan for like, getting you prepared…”

John smiled at the enthusiasm Alex was showing, instead of the hurt or rejection he was worried he might experience instead. “Do you have something in mind, honey?”

Alex thought for a moment. “Maybe. Give me until like, tomorrow?”

The next day, John practically spat out his smoothie at his work desk when he received an invitation on his google calendar for “John’s Anal Boot Camp” for the next week. 

**John:** Alex WTF 

**John:** ANAL BOOTCAMP???

 **Alex:** It was either that or “Assploration” I figured this rolled off the tongue nicer

 **Alex:** Did you even look at the events?

 **Laf:** I have responded “yes” to the John Anal Boot Camp event 

**Alex:** Look what’s on the calendar tonight, Jack. 

**John:** -_- It says “rim job”  >_<

 **Laf:** Ohhh, excellent

 **Alex:** See, there’s a different activity every night. Working you up from easiest to most challenging, and then at the end. 

**Alex:** BAM. Laf’s dick

 **Alex:** It’s a process, sweetie. Think of every activity as like... training. Training for your ass.

 **John:** You are lucky I love you. 

**Alex:** I know I am  <3

John rolled his eyes, opened the event’s details. Almost passed out at what he read:

Day 1: Rim Job  
Day 2: Fingering, 1 finger  
Day 3: Fingering, 2 fingers  
Day 4: Fingering, 3 fingers  
Day 5: Plug, 2 hours minimum  
Day 6: Dildo  
Day 7: JOHN GETS HIS CHERRY POPPED

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered to himself. Could feel himself blushing at the very thought. Leave it to Alex to go the extra mile and extend something that should be rather simple into a week long event. 

He tutted a few more times, then went back to the piece he was working on.

***

“Ok, so for in order for this to work, we have to take our time.” It was almost bedtime, and Alex was stripping with an almost clinical efficiency. “The goal is to get you nice, stretched, and relaxed. So when it’s time, your enjoyment will be maximized. Oh! Also, I think it’s important for us to get to know the intricacies of your ass, you know, familiarize ourselves with the landscape.” 

John, freshly showered and standing before them, a giant white bath towel wrapped around his waist, lifted an eyebrow. “‘The intricacies of my ass?’ Romantic.” He had insisted on showering, cleaning himself out as thoroughly as he could. 

Alex giggled. “Sorry. Just looking at this logically.”

Lafayette was stretched out on the bed, naked except for his glasses, his hair tied back. “Come here, little one,” he said, sensing John’s nerves. John dropped the towel, crawled into the bed. Lafayette gave him a few closed mouth kisses, stroked the length of his torso. “Your pleasure is the goal here, yes? Just relax. We will take care of you.”

“I know.” John rolled closer, vied for his lips on his. They kissed for awhile, long enough for Alex to come up behind him and spoon him, long enough for John to start growing hard. When Lafayette sensed his arousal, he wrapped a reassuring hand around John’s cock, coaxed him to full mast. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” Alex nipped at his ear. “All fours. Show us your cute little ass.”

Blushing furiously, John positioned himself as Alex instructed, Lafayette let out a small sigh of pleasure at the sight. “You are so sexy, cherie,” he said. Ran a hand lightly over John’s rump, raising goosebumps with his touch. “Do not be nervous, little one, we have done this before. You know your safe word colors if you want to stop.”

“Here’s how it’s going to go down,” Alex said, still talking in the direct and straightforward voice. “Laf’s gonna start, lick you open. When you’re relaxed enough, he’s gonna tongue fuck you. Then we’ll see about getting you off. How’s that sound?”

“What are you doing the whole time? Taking minutes?” John stretched out his arms, fell to his elbows in more open position. 

“Moral support? Coaching? Trust me, ok?” 

John turned his face, barely visible under his cloud of curls. Alex swooped in for a quick kiss. Meanwhile, Laf was teasing the skin of his ass cheeks, light traces of his fingernails, palming a cheek in each hand, kissing a path from the small of his back down to the the backs of his thighs. He curled one huge around John’s thigh, pressed the pad of his thumb on John’s perineum, making John gasp in surprise. Dragged his thumb up towards John’s hole, pink and clean, and back down, applying the lightest bit of pressure, as if searching for something. When he brushed his perineum from a certain angle, John panted, pushed back into his hand. He smirked it Alex. 

“Well done, my dear,” Alex said. “Step two.” 

Keeping his thumb on the spot, Laf brought his other hand up. Pet the roundness of John’s ass, the front of his thighs, a quick squeeze to his cock, then massaged his balls. John practically purred under the attention, spread his legs a little wider, pushed his ass back. Laf kissed at the meat of his ass, his lips finding their way to his crack. He pulled John’s cheeks apart, licked a long, careful stripe from the seam of John’s scrotum, up his crack. He repeated the move several times, the goal to dampen John’s ass as thoroughly as possible. Lafayette listened and watched carefully, noted where John shivered and made small sounds of pleasure. 

Laf hauled John up and closer, lifted him while he attacked him with his tongue. Affixed his mouth to John’s hole, licked with enthusiasm, a constant, fluttering of his tongue. Lapped until John relaxed enough that Laf’s tongue could wriggle its way in. It took just a few minutes of the soft, pointed pokes of his tongue to reduce John to a quivering, moaning mess. Combined with gentle pressure on the spot he had sussed out earlier, and John was positively writhing, begging. 

“Oh my god, Laf, Laf, more, please Laf, please.”

“He’s giving you as much as you’re gonna get tonight, baby boy. Can’t go too fast or we could hurt you.”

“Feels so good, fuck.”

Laf surfaced for a moment. “Think you can come from this, mon cher?” 

“Need... need something else. Need someone to touch my dick. Can I touch myself, please sir?” 

“Non. Alexander, can you help him?” 

“On it.” Alex fumbled underneath John, took him in hand. John made a high, keening sound in the back of his throat, immediately tried to fuck into Alex’s hand. Lafayette caught him by the hips again, stopped his movement. “Don’t think so,” Alex continued. “We’re taking care of you.”

John whined and let himself be manhandled. Surrendered the competing, yet complementary sensations of Lafayette’s tongue in his ass and Alex’s hand on his cock. It all felt so good, had him almost dizzy with sensory overload. It only took a few good pumps from Alex and he was shooting off into his hand. Alex squeezed him, root to tip, then thumbed at his over sensitive head until John started making frantic little cries. They pulled away from him in tandem, and John collapsed into the bed. Laf hugged him from behind, kissed his shoulder. Seemed hesitant to kiss John’s mouth, perhaps cautious John might be grossed out by the idea, but John immediately rolled over and crashed their lips together. After the pleasure Lafayette had just gifted him, he couldn’t care less. They kissed for a quite a bit, tongues tangling and hands roaming. Meanwhile, Alex fingered himself open, grabbed the lube and slicked up Laf’s cock. 

“Lay back, babe,” he said pushing both John and Laf into the pillows. “You just worked hard, just relax and let me take care of this.”

***

The next night, Alex wanted to do the honors. “I’ve been wanting to finger your cute little ass since you walked into my office last spring,” he said. It was an almost exact replica of the evening before. John, again in his towel, pink from his shower. Lafayette in his glasses and nothing else, lounging across the bed. Alex, eager as a beaver and ready to get to work. 

John sighed, taking time to hang up his towel and crawl into bed next to Alex. When he started to roll up on all fours again, Alex stopped him, had him curl up on his side so he could spoon him from behind. “This is nice,” John noted, snuggling against him. Alex laughed in his ear, planted a few well placed kisses on his neck and shoulder. 

“Alright folks, we are here with day two of John’s Anal Boot Camp, about to commence with one, exactly one, finger in John Laurens’ ass. John, do you have any last words before the breach?” 

Behind them, Laf was snorting he was laughing so hard. “What a charmer!” he said, clutching a pillow to his stomach as he dissolved into more giggles. John rolled his eyes.

“Gosh, Alex, you’re so romantic.” John griped. 

“Look, it’s not every day I get to finger a hot, freckled virgin. I must admit, my digital skills are quite good, but they are wasted since Laf isn’t into butt stuff when it’s his butt in question. Let me have my fun.”

“I love you, but you are insane.”

“This, I know. Here, sweetie, you gotta relax.” While they bantered, Alex had been allowing his hands to wander the inviting expanse of John’s body while he peppered him with kisses. At the same time, he was warming some lube in his hand, coating his index finger thoroughly. He started by rubbing circles on John’s rim, tentative and soft. Felt John relax in his arms. “How’s that feel?” John just nodded, went slightly looser in Alex’s arms. Alex continued to rub at him, then John is pushing back into his hand, as if looking for more. 

“Ready?” Alex whispered. Another nod from John. “Ok, baby, breathe. Breathe in, then out…” On John’s exhale, Alex slipped his finger in. John made a small chirp, like he was surprised. “You ok? That ok?” 

After a few grounding swallows, John adjusted his hips, as if still pondering the feeling. “Yeah, it’s... It’s ok.” 

Alex sunk his finger down to the knuckle, slow enough for John’s body to accept it with minimal discomfort. He wiggled his finger around slightly, feeling, exploring. John was so tight, so warm, and it had Alex hard as a rock just considering it. Sunk his teeth in John’s shoulders to ground himself, then began thrusting his finger in and out, carefully. Honed into John’s reactions, taking care not to hurt or overwhelm him. 

Meanwhile, Lafayette had rearranged himself in front of John, was touching him with delicate, deliberate hands. John was melting under the dual attention, moaned loudest when Lafayette’s hand found its way between his legs. Fingers walked down his perineum until they located the same spot from the night before. Lafayette said something to himself quietly, then pushed directly on the spot. Simultaneously, Alex curled his finger, searching. 

Sparks. John jolted in their arms, clapped a hand over his mouth. The feeling was so stark, so much, almost too much. Laf took his wrist, peeled his hand off his mouth. “None of that, little one, we want to hear you.” That instruction was enough to have John moaning, and loudly, and with Alex pushing on that sweet spot and Lafayette stimulating it from the outside, he was engulfed in a pleasure unknown to him until that point. Liquid warmth radiating from his insides coupled with the most glorious pressure. In addition to being rock hard, John felt like his skin was electrified, his hair practically standing on end. 

“I think you found the spot,” Lafayette noted while he continued to tease and torment John from the outside. 

“I think I did,” Alex agreed, digging in further. They touched him like this for awhile, relishing each sound, each twitch, each sentiment John gave them. After a while it became too much, and he begged them for relief. With Alex’s finger still on the spot, Laf shimmied down his body and sucked him to completion. He came with a ragged cry, deep down Laf’s throat, reaching behind himself to yank at Alex’s hair. 

John wasn’t usually one to fall asleep right after sex, but being sandwiched so snugly between his two men, after having such an intense orgasm, he dropped off almost immediately, had some of the most restful sleep in recent memory.

***

The third night, two fingers went much the same as one. Blooming, unbearable pleasure, followed by unfettered pleading, concluding with an extremely satisfying orgasm and sleep.

***

Lafayette wanted to stretch him the next night, work him up to three fingers. His fingers were longer, thicker than Alex’s, and his technique had a slightly different flair to it. Where Alex attacked directly, probed him open, worked him into relaxation then pounded his prostate relentlessly, Lafayette’s style was more to tease. He had John on his back, knees drawn up to his chest, and was working just one finger in. Once John was loose enough, he added a second. He paused at moments, delivered a few slow strokes to John’s cock. Alternated between stretching him and jerking him off. By the time he worked up to three fingers, John was yanking at his own hair, quivering and practically in tears.

“What is it, baby boy?” Alex teased. Sitting cross legged by the headboard, he took John’s head in his lap, pet his hair. “Too much?”

“No,” John exhaled. Had a full body shudder. “F-feels so goooood.” 

Alex lifted his eyebrows. He, himself, was full mast just from watching one of his boyfriends take the other apart, and thought for a moment. “Here, baby, want something to help keep you present?” John craned his neck to look up at Alex, his eyes big and wet and trusting. Impressively, he got the hint, turned his face and took Alex into his mouth. Suckled at the head like Alex was candy, slow and methodical and almost like he was self soothing. Alex wasn’t about to complain, it felt incredible. So incredible, when he shot his load all over John’s face, it was a surprise to all of them. Lafayette jacked John through his own orgasm, bent his head to lick up the mess. Finally, with his fingers still inside John, he jerked himself off, coming messily on John’s thighs.

Lafayette insisted on administering aftercare, noting the dreamy glazed look on John’s face and his silence. While they soaked in the bath together, Lafayette asked John how he was feeling.

“Honestly?” John, flushed from the hot water, looked between Alex and Laf. “Impatient. Horny. Ready.”

Alex cracked up, almost snorted up some bath water he was laughing so hard. 

“Alexander’s plan is working then,” Lafayette said in a conspiratorial voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked grumpily. “I thought this was necessary?”

“I mean it kinda is,” Alex said. “But I mean, I feel after a week of your booty being teased, you are gonna be so ready for that dick it’s gonna be... redic.”

“Y’all are so mean to me, I swear,” John grumbled. Seeing how excited his boyfriends were though softened his annoyance. 

“Oh, oh! Also! Tomorrow is butt plug day!” Alex announced. 

“That is correct! And your plug was delivered today, too,” Laf added. “Brand new and ready for its first use.”

John rolled his eyes, let Lafayette finish washing his face. “You guys are nuts.”

“Nuts about you,” Alex said. Kissed him until he was dizzy.

***

The package held three plugs, all silicone, bright purple, in graduated sizes. John inspected them warily, picked one up. The bases were each decorated with a pretty, sparkly gem. The material was velvet-soft, and they felt like they had enough give. The largest one was slightly intimidating, but the other two looked manageable. 

“Goldi-John and the Three Plugs,” Alex said, giggling. “This one is too small. This one is too big. This one is juuuuust right.” He held up the medium one. John rolled his eyes. 

“Be nice to John, or you will be wearing one of your own tonight,” Lafayette said ominously, he took the medium plug from Alex and disappeared into the the ensuite to wash it. 

“And that’s punishment because…?” Alex called after him. 

“It will be when I make you wear the big glass one, a ring, and not let you come when we get home.” Lafayette emerged, drying the plug off with a clean hand towel and holding the lube. 

“Get home?” John asked. He had showered as soon as he got back from work, knew that he’d be wearing the plug for a “minimum of 2 hours” according to Alex’s plan. Didn’t realize that plan would be carried out anywhere aside from the comfort of the apartment. 

“Yup! Dinner at Rabino’s and then we’re gonna go see ‘Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters.’” Alex chirped. With his hair in a high ponytail and in an oversized bright green sweater, he looked like an excited little kid. 

“Ah, I think just dinner tonight, mon chou,” Lafayette said. “No movie.”

“What? Why?”

“Much too easy for John to fuck himself on the plug in the dark of a movie.” Lafayette shot John a commanding look.

“Aw man. I really want to see that movie.” Alex griped, flopped face down on the bed next to John. 

Lafayette rolled his eyes, sat next to John. “Come here, little one. Alexander, make yourself useful and go pick out an outfit for John to wear to dinner.”

Grumbling, Alex rolled of the bed, stomped off to the closet. Meanwhile, Lafayette had John drape himself across his lap. By this point, the feeling of being fingered open wasn’t only familiar, but welcome. John enjoyed the feeling of the intrusion, the moment his body surrendered and opened to Lafayette. Instead of playing with his prostate, though, Lafayette grabbed the medium plug, all ready and coated with lube. He pressed the tip of the toy against John’s entrance, told him to breathe. As the plug popped into place, John peeped in surprise. Lafayette pushed on the base experimentally. John jolted in his lap, both in surprise and pleasure. Lafayette chuckled to himself, let John sit up. Alex had brought him a pair of boxer briefs, some skinny jeans, and a v-neck in deep garnet. It took John a moment to adjust, sort of took stock of how he felt. The plug was there, was present, and he was aware of it. It didn’t feel bad or good, just there. Each change in position offered a new sensation--crouching to put on his underwear, shimmying to pull on his tight jeans, sitting on the floor to deal with his socks. He was aware of Lafayette and Alex watching him, and the thought was an arousing one. As he stood to examine himself in the mirror, he was unsurprised to see how defined and large his package looked in the jeans. 

Alex came up behind him to hug him around the waist while Lafayette when to the bathroom to wash his hands. “You look so hot.”

Dinner was interesting to say the least. John couldn’t help but feel like every stranger who looked at him could tell what was going on underneath his clothes. Instead of feeling ashamed, though, the thought was oddly arousing. His own dirty little secret. Every look Lafayette or Alex gave him was loaded with suggestion. Alex smirked every time squirmed in his seat. At one point, when he was fidgeting quite noticeably, Lafayette laid his hand over his wrist. Tapped it in either comfort or warning. The look in his face told him to be still. 

Concentrating on dinner was an exceptional challenge. Through salad and garlic bread, Alex was yammering about some new policy coming up he had to write about, having to pause now and then and fill in gaps for Lafayette. John sat in mostly silence, lost in his own thoughts. Mortified at how his voice sounded when he ordered. Twirling his fork in his pasta carbonara, sipping his wine, watching Alex and Lafayette hold a conversation with little regard for his own predicament. 

On the subway ride back home, Lafayette crowded him against the bar he was holding onto so John was pushed up against him, back to front. His broadness and warmth, combined with the torment of the plug, had John practically coming in his pants. Alex was looking at the bulge in his jeans with great interest, grinning like a jackass and practically with hearts in his eyes. 

They were hardly in the door when John launched himself at the both of them. And when he begged for someone to fuck him, Alex tugged at his hair, shushed him. 

“Two more days, baby boy,” he said. “Two more days.”

***

After the plug, John figured the dildo wouldn’t be too difficult. It was slim and pink. After much discussion, John knew he wanted his first time to be missionary, wanted to be able to make eye contact and see Laf’s face. So they had him lay on his back, plant his feet on the bed and spread his legs. Alex opened him, three fingers went easy, and by the time Laf came at with him the toy, he was practically mewling for it. He worked it in slowly, John fighting to stay still through it. 

“How is that?” Laf asked, the dildo halfway in. Pulled it back a few inches, thrust it back in. John nodded. 

“Feels really good,” he whispered. Went to lift his hips but Alex pushed him back into the bed. 

Lafayette kept the pattern consistent, short, shallow strokes. John asked him for more, to go deeper, so he obliged in increments. Sped up the rhythm, watching John’s face for signs of pain or distress, saw nothing but pleasure and trust there. He was so hard, his dick dark with the force of it, dribbling precum despite no one touching him. Laf himself was uncomfortably hard in his shorts, had to pause and adjust himself. Alex wiped some of the sweaty curls out of John’s face. 

The touch of Alex’s hand on his face jolted John out of his silent reverie. “Please,” he gasped. “Please, Lafayette, sir, honey, my love, please please please fuck me.”

“Not tonight,” Lafayette teased. Slowed the toy down. 

John slammed his head back against the pillow in frustration. “I’m ready, I want it, want you, my darling please. Stop with the fucking toy, give me the real thing.”

Lafayette smiled, just continued to the tease him with the toy. John covered his face with his hands, moaned loudly. 

“You’ve got fucking self control of steel,” Alex remarked, palming himself through his boxers. “How are you resisting this?” 

“It is called delayed gratification, Alexander,” Lafayette explained calmly. “When you wait for something good, it makes it much better.”

“Smart ass.”

“With that in mind…” Lafayette set the toy aside, disappeared into the walk in. Immediately, John rolled into Alex’s arms, crammed his mouth on his. Kissed hungrily, humping against Alex’s thigh. When Lafayette returned, he had to practically peel John off of Alex. Instead of getting him off, Lafayette rolled a silicone ring to the base of John’s dick. It was tethered to a small silicone plug, which John’s body accepted easily. He whined, turned away, rutted in the comforter. 

“Goddamn. You are mean,” Alex observed. Patted John on the back in some semblance in comfort. “You gonna make him sleep like that?”

“Oui,” Lafayette said, his eyes flashing with a slightly evil glint. “Delayed gratification.”

Under them, John sobbed in frustration. “I hate you both.”

“Naw, you love us,” Alex said nuzzling his ear.


	25. SATURDAY, AGAIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The very end. Thank you to everyone who was reading. I hope you enjoy.

25 SATURDAY, AGAIN

The morning dawned. Slanted sunlight through the curtains, making the room glow gold. John woke first. While the coffee brewed, he showered, taking care to keep his hair dry. He was still self conscious, wanted to make sure he was clean and ready. He worked out the plug. As soon as he was out of the shower, he poured the coffee. Black for Alex, a generous pouring of cream and a spoonful of sugar for Laf. He snuck back into the bedroom, quiet as a mouse, set the mugs on the side table. Crawled back into the bed, settled between them, naked and silent. It was hardly past eight, and usually they would sleep in. Today, John was extremely keyed up. He wanted his boyfriends and he wanted them now. 

He roused Alex first, kissed him awake, pressed the mug of coffee into his hands. “You’re like a kid on Christmas morning,” Alex said, returning his kiss. Sipped his coffee while John snuggled him, tucked his naked body against him. Alex stroked him like one might pet a cat, lazy and affectionate. 

“Laf. Hey Laf?” Alex reached around John and prodded Lafayette in the shoulder. Laf made a snuffling sound, said something in French, his voice gravelly. “Lafayette. Duty calls!”

Lafayette, with his eyes still closed, groped around in the blankets until he found John. Pulled him close, hugged him, then his eyes popped open in surprise. “Little one, where in the world are your clothes?”

Alex laughed, set his empty mug on the side table, fit his body next to John’s. “He’s quite impatient this morning.”

John just whimpered, buried his in Lafayette’s chest. Kissed the patch of hair there. 

Lafayette yawned. Kissed John on the forehead, propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at him. “I take it you are ready? You have been very patient, waiting a week.”

“Yes. Please, honey. Please. I want you, want you so bad.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,”’ Alex said. Poked Laf in the shoulder with the bottle of lube. “Better get started.”

“Hold on,” John said softly as Lafayette flipped the cap. “Alex. Um. Can you… I want you to hold me. During. Ok?”

Alex looked shocked, then pleased by the request. “You sure?” 

“Mmhmm. Wanna connect with you too.” The sincerity in John’s voice, the love there, rendered Alex speechless. He said nothing, just pulled off his sleeping clothes, arranged himself against the headboard. John settled between his thighs, half sitting, half laying. John dropped his head back so they could kiss. The sight of his two boys, connected and holding on another, made something deep take root in Lafayette’s heart. 

“What has made me so lucky?” He wondered out loud. The look both of them gave him was so happy, so warm, his heart hitched again. 

Opening John was simple. Wearing the plug had him loose and pliant, he accepted three fingers easily. While fingering him open, they made out, Laf only breaking away so he could kiss Alex, or Alex could kiss John. The look on his face as he found the right spot, rubbed in and out of him the right way. He stretched him as much as he could take, kissed John neck, his shoulders, his chest, his hair. Alex cradled him close, caressed his chest and stomach. John was practically vibrating between them. His skin was alive with every touch, with every brush of their lips. 

“You are beautiful,” Lafayette said. And it was true, the morning sun illuminating them, John’s skin glowing copper, splashed with freckles. “I have waited so long for you, my love.” This was true, too, and there could be nothing better than the two men Lafayette loved best, staring back at him like he was their world. Like they were each other’s worlds. “I am ready. Are you ready for me?”

John touched his face, ran a thumb over his lips, looked at him closely. “I think I’ve been ready ever since you let me come back.”

“Breathe, my dear.” And on the exhale, Lafayette took himself in hand, pushed slowly in. Watched John’s face closely. He was biting his lip, staring down at where their bodies connected. “More,” he urged, noting Lafayette was less than half way in. Honestly, the muscles in his thighs quivered from holding himself so still, when every nerve in his body screamed at him to slam in, to settle fully into the wet, tight warmth that was John’s body. Grunting, he adjusted, gave another inch or so. 

“Are you alright?” Lafayette asked, voice breathless. One of John’s hands in his hair, the other holding Alex by the wrist. 

“God, _yes_ , Lafayette, just _fuck me_ ,” he pled, twitched in their combined grips. 

“Non.” Lafayette shook his head as he inched in a little more. Wanted to be balls deep before he thrust again. “I am not going to fuck you. I am going to make love to you. Soft, sweet, the way you deserve, yes?”

John hiccuped back a sob, nodded, scooted his hips so Lafayette would sink his cock in deeper. A few more breaths and he was buried to the hilt, and John was groaning with it, was scrabbling with his fingers in Laf’s back, was begging and honestly Lafayette’s brain was too fogged to translate fast enough, but he heard want, he heard desire, he heard love and he had to give those things to John. Needed to hear him crying with it, needed him to forget everything but his name. Needed to claim him, take him. Show him they would keep him.

Lafayette drew back, rolled his hips a few times, wanted to establish the correct angle before committing to a thrusting pattern. Wanted to find the spot. Had to hitch John’s hips up steeper, push his legs back. John panted, “there, there,” and Lafayette snapped his hips, gave John exactly what he was begging for.

Behind John, Alex exhaled, clearly enjoying the show. He knew John was gonna fall apart under Lafayette’s attentions, what he couldn’t predict was how hard this was going hit Laf. Lafayette was staring John like he was a shooting star he had caught, something precious and fleeting and unexpected. And while Alex knew he could be selfish, sometimes wanted to hoard such moments for himself, this was when he realized the extent for his love of both them--the fact that he derived nothing but joy from watching them make love in hips lap, not a speck of jealousy in his heart. Game over, he thought. These two had hooks in his heart. 

Between them, John had lost all sense of language. Completely lacked the vocabulary to describe how he felt. How does one explain what it feels like to be split open, be filled with light? Before meeting Alex and Lafayette, sex to him something mechanical, physical. Pleasurable, to be sure, but never like this. Never like he felt, with each thrust of his hips, Lafayette was giving something to him, some important. For the moment, the three of them were one, connected by hands and lips, and with one of his lovers inside of him, the other holding him, he realized quite clearly just how happy he was, just how right everything felt. 

They were chest to chest now, Laf’s mouth to his ear, a flood of French in the softest, sweetest voice John had ever heard pouring forth. He pounded into him over and over, like he might die if he stopped. John wrapped his arms and legs around Laf, held him as close as he could. The feeling of Laf deep inside of him combined with the unintentional friction on his dick as it was trapped between them, had his orgasm building. Alex must have felt him tensing, because he bent his head to whisper in his ear. “Come with Laf inside you baby boy. It will feel incredible for both of you.” And as if Alex’s words were permission, John’s whole body tightened, several seconds of the purest, most perfect pleasure he had ever experienced. Lafayette sighed in his ear, held himself still while John rode out his orgasm, whined as he came between them. It took just a few more thrusts from him and he was close. John must have sense his build up because he insisted on cupping Lafayette’s cheek, held eye contact while Lafayette came in him, as deep as he could fit. 

“Wait,” John hissed, held Laf close. Caught his lips again, pulled Alex into the fray as well. It started to grow uncomfortable with Lafayette softening inside of him, but he craved the closeness, needed it like he needed air. “I love you,” he said. “I love you both.”

“Jack…” Alex breathed behind him. 

“Oh, John. My treasure, my heart. I love you too.”

John could feel the tears gathering in his eyes. Lafayette kissed his nose once, then slowly pulled out. John winced slightly, was glad Alex was there to hold him and kiss him through it. “Do you need--” he started to ask Alex, but he was shaking his head.

“I uh… haha… Do not need anything actually.” And John felt the wet spot on his back where Alex must have come at some point. “Sorry. It just sort of happened.”

Suddenly, the three of them were laughing, laughing so hard they couldn’t speak. Then Alex was cuddling between the two of them, Lafayette was reaching for his coffee, sipping it even though it went cold. They were quietly, mostly just exchanging meaningful looks and sleepy kisses. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile so much in all the time I’ve met you,” Alex observed. John just smiled wider, knew he looked dopey, found he didn’t care. Poked Alex in the tummy, squeezed Lafayette’s hand in his. 

“Of course I’m smiling. I’m happy,” he said. And it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your love, support, kudos and comments.  
> This verse is not even close to being over.
> 
> Please come say hi on Tumblr: @likearootlesstree

**Works inspired by this one:**

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